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“Tom the Tinker/' 

Copyright, 1905, by R. T. Wiley. 


From an old painting. 


SIM GREENE 

A NARRATIVE OF THE WHISKY 
INSURRECTION 

Being a Setting Forth of the Memoirs of the Late 
David Froman, Esq. 

BY 

RICHARD T. WILEY 


THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 


PHILADELPHIA 


1906 


LIBRARY of CONfiRPSsf 
Two CoDies Received 

JUL 25 1906 

'lifiopyrighi Entry 

rrUuj2- 3 t Q o (q 

/ (o (o f Q 

COPY B, 


COPYRIGHT 

1906 

R. T. WILEY. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

Introductory Note 

I. A Pilgrimage 1 

II. A Terror by Night 12 

III. Some New Friends Made 21 

IV. Sim’s “ Painter ” Story . 31 

‘ V. A Night at Bonnet’s 42 

VI. A Fiery Visitation 53 

VII. In the New Home 60 

VIII. A Trip to Mingo 68 

IX. The Raising at Colling’s 74 

X. The House-warming 83 

XI. The New Boy’s Gauge Taken 93 

XII. The Sacrament at Round Hill 100 

XIII. Portents of a Storm Ill 

XIV. Heredity or Environment? 119 

XV. Submission or Resistance? 128 

XVT. The Camp-meeting at Fell’s 138 

XVII. Friends, Old and New 145 

XVIII. On Bridendall Shoal 155 

XIX. Tom the Tinker 164 

XX. In the Shadow 172 

XXI. The First Bloodshed 182 

XXII. The March on Nevill’s 191 

XXIII. The Attack 200 

XXIV. The Meeting at Mingo 209 

XXV. A Conspiracy 218 


Contents 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

XXVI. The Gathering at Braddock’s Field . . . 227 

XXVII. The March on Pittsburgh 236 

XXVIII. Beginning of the End 244 

XXIX. What the Bird and Squirrel Saw .... 253 

XXX. A Crisis Passed 264 

XXXI. A Rude Awakening 274 

XXXII. A Baffled Pursuit 283 

XXXIII. A Coup de Peel 289 

XXXIV. An Unexpected Meeting 300 

XXXV. In a False Position 310 

XXXVI. Duty’s Call 315 

XXXVII. Shadow and Sunshine 324 

XXXVIII. The Building of the Ship 334 

XXXIX. The Voyage 340 

XL. While Bird and Squirrel Slept .... 349 

XLI. Lifted Curtains 357 

XLII. Light at Evening Time 366 

After Many Years 371 


INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 


The part played by the Whisky Insurrection in south- 
western Pennsylvania, in the last decade of the 
Eighteenth Century, is hardly estimated by the average 
American at its true importance. The general his- 
tories dismiss it with a few brief paragraphs. The 
government of the people and by the people was young, 
and men’s relation to it was not so generally nor so well 
understood then as it is now. The world had been 
electrified by the French Revolution, and the influence 
of the ideas dominant in it was most sensibly felt in 
America at that time. This insurrection of the people 
of the then far west was a real menace to the integrity 
of the young republic, and even threatened its very 
existence, with all of human weal wrapped up with it. 

We usually think of the boycott as being a modern de- 
vice, or at least foreign to our shores until recent years. 
But we have only to turn back to the period under 
consideration, many years before the word had been 
coined, to find a most conspicuous and remarkable 
example of its baleful spirit. It is true that the excise 
law in its operation affected the people of the western' 
country with peculiar hardship. But they were in 
the main an intelligent people, intensely religious, and 
well instructed in matters of right and duty. Labored 
efforts have been made to excuse their actions. The 
histories of the Insurrection written soon after its close, 
by persons who were more or less involved in it, partook 


Introductory Note. 

largely of the nature of explanations of and apologies 
for their conduct in connection therewith. Nearly 
everything written since on the same subject has been 
Colored more or less by the narratives of those early 
writers, two of whom published their books within two 
years after the events treated. Even that volume of 
the Pennsylvania Archives which treats of the Whisky 
Insurrection is distinctly apologetic in its tone. 

In these days, when there is manifested a spirit of 
arrogance on the part of strongly intrenched corporate 
might, on the one hand, which would ride over the 
rights of the masses; and that equally reprehensible 
intolerance on the part of organized labor, on the other 
hand, which frequently becomes active in the persecu- 
tion of those who choose not to align themselves with it 
nor obey its behests, it is particularly important that 
nothing he taught which seems to palliate disregard for 
or defiance of law. The writer of the following pages 
has felt his responsibility in that particular. But the 
effort has been made to give, without bias, a connected 
account of the principal events of the Insurrection, 
along with what befell some whose lives it touched. 
The frontier life pictured is true to the time and place 
— the people, their vocations, their home life, their 
worship and their recreations. 

I am not unmindful of the dictum of modem critics 
that the mission of the story is to entertain and not to 
instruct. Nor have I lost sight of that other fact which 
stands out in. the fiction of the day, so that he who runs 
may read, that it is not essential for the historical novel 
to adhere very closely to the facts of history. But I 
have deemed it, on the whole, best not to attempt any 
alteration of Mr. David Froman’s narrative, beyond 


Introductory Note. 

the insertion of a few sentences, here and there, to 
make some statements of his a little clearer to the 
reader of to-day, or to note some marked change since 
the time of his writing. These additions of mine are 
in brief footnotes in connection with the text and in the 
chapter at the end of the volume. 


R. T. W. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Tom THE Tinker Frontispiece 

The Sacrament at Round Hill 106 

Old Mingo Meeting-House 212 

Cave-in-Rock 370 


SIM GREENE 


CHAPTER I. 

A PILGRIMAGE. 

A LONG cavalcade was winding its way slowly 
up the narrow mountain road. It was an odd- 
ly mounted and queerly caparisoned company, 
and yet the sight was a common one at that time. Af- 
ter all these years the scene comes vividly before me, 
and my old hand forgets its task of writing, while I 
lie back with eyes closed, my feet in the glow of the 
cheerful coal fire, and see it once again as I saw it that 
day, late in the summer of the long ago. 

For it was in the year 1788, and since then a time 
nearly the allotted term of man’s earthly life has 
elapsed. I am daily thanking the kind Providence 
Who for His own wise purposes is prolonging my 
poor life so much beyond that limit, and I am wonder- 
ing why He does so. Perhaps it is that I, who have 
outlived nearly all of my own generation, am spared 
to leave this record of the exciting times and the 
stirring scenes through which many of my friends and 
acquaintances passed. 

And, although it is many years since these things 
were enacted, it will yet be long before this record of 
them shall be seen on the printed page ; for the instruc- 

1 


2 


Sim Greene. 


tions I shall leave provide that these memoirs shall 
not be published until my old bones shall have mould- 
ered in the earth for fifty years, and the proved love 
of those with whom they shall be left is the sufficient 
guarantee that my desire shall be carried out. I deem 
this due to the generations immediately following my 
own. Many of whom I shall write were bound to me 
by the ties of friendship, and I truly believe that some, 
in the course they pursued, were influenced by their 
family traditions, the circumstances of their environ- 
ment and even their own conceptions of right, in the 
doing of those things which I could only regard as 
wrong. 

But here I am, wandering away in my ruminations 
of the long ago, while the reader is impatient to know 
of the things this chapter started to tell. That is the 
way with the old. Early impressions are the most 
deeply engraven, and one memory of the long vanished 
youth calls up others to come trooping in review, each 
claiming its share of attention. I pray your gentle 
pardon, my dear friend, whom these old eyes shall 
never see in this world, for this and the like digres- 
sions that may be met again in these pages, and beg 
that an old man may be allowed to tell his story in 
his own manner. 

The way was the historic old Pennsylvania Road 
over the mountains, in the southern tier of counties. 
First it was an Indian trail — a mere path through 
the otherwise trackless forest, which had existed and 
been traversed through uncounted generations by the 
copper-hued denizens of the wooded hills and valleys 
in their migrations east and west. In that early stage 
it maintained the surprising directness and availabil- 


Sim Greene. 


3 


it y which all the beaten paths of the red men show, 
laid out, as they were, without compass or chain. 
Colonel Burd and his hardy pioneers made it a wagon 
road as far as Raystown (now Bedford) in 1755. It 
was designed to afford communication with the force 
under the command of the ill-fated Braddock, but the 
disaster to him and his army brought the enterprise 
to an end for that time. Three years later a force 
under General John Forbes, with Colonel Henry Bou- 
quet in immediate charge, completed it to Fort Du- 
quesne. The French forces at the head of the Ohio 
melted away like the light frost under the rays of the 
morning sun before their triumphant approach. Still 
five years later Bouquet again traversed it with a mil- 
itary force, at the time of Pontiac’s Conspiracy, going 
to the aid of the imperilled fort at the junction of the 
rivers, and winning at Bushy Run the brilliant victory 
which did so much to wipe out the humiliation of Brad- 
dock’s disaster. 

Three years before our pilgrims were found upon it 
the young commonwealth began the work of rebuilding 
the road, and this work was not then wholly completed. 
From that time it was known as the “ Re w Road,” its 
course being changed in some particulars and better 
grades established. But it was still far from the con- 
dition of our average highways of to-day, especially the 
parts of it among the mountains. To travel the length 
of the state over such a road, with the conveyances then 
at command, was an undertaking from which most of 
the grandsons of those hardy pioneers would shrink. 

There were places among the mountains where wagon 
traffic was well nigh impracticable, so everything that 
was at all adaptable to portage on the backs of horses 


4 


Sim Greene. 


was carried that way, even to the children of the 
households. In this cavalcade a sure-footed horse had 
for part of its burden a little boy and girl from two 
of the families represented in the party. Each occu- 
pied the central space amid beds, bedding and apparel, 
packed in a large creel made of hickory withes, in the 
fashion of a crate, one slung over each side. The tops 
were well secured by lacing to keep the children in, 
and only their heads appeared. Thus ensconced, they 
gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the passing scenes, and 
made much diversion for themselves and the remainder 
of the party. Other animals carried various articles 
of household use, or the cherished relics of the older 
civilization which the emigrants could not bear to part 
with when they started for their new homes in the far 
western wilderness. 

The women of the party had their quarters in the 
few wagons belonging to the expedition, or perched 
upon the backs of pack-horses. The men and larger 
boys walked for the most part, and often the women 
and girls joined them for a time, to get a change from 
the tedium of their confined quarters. One such group 
was now striding along a little in advance of the main 
party — a man, a boy and a girl — and the man was 
entertaining the other two with his quaint remarks on 
the objects presented to view as they passed along. 
His speech at once betrayed his Hew England birth. 

“ Wall, hyar we air,” he remarked, as they reached 
the top of an eminence commanding an extended view, 
“ right up on the tip-top. I read in a book onct that 
a feller writ abaout the maountain ridges bein’ throwed 
up when this old world was a-coolin’ off, an’ makin’ 
the back-bones uv the continents. Guess this is one uv 


Sim Greene. 


5 


the places where old Mother Yairth got ’er back up.” 

“Naow, I call that scrumptious,” he continued, 
pointing off to the westward, where a broad valley 
stretched away, with another mountain ridge border- 
ing it on the farther side. “ Seems like as if some 
feller had kinder smoothed that range uv hills off 
with his hands, don’t it ? ” 

His young companions assented. 

“ Waal, I guess when we get tew it we’ll find it 
abaout as oneven as this range is. Purty rough sled- 
din’ over all these maountains,” he said with a chuckle 
which was characteristic of him. 

The view was indeed an enchanting one. Far away 
across the broad valley one unbroken forest covered 
the undulating surface of the ground as grass covers 
a meadow. For the most part it was a deep green, 
but here and there a dash of crimson was afforded by 
a gum tree or a vine which blushed its acknowledg- 
ment of the first whisperings of Autumn, coming with 
his denuding touch. Yonder and again some giant of 
the forest lifted his head above his fellows and proudly 
tossed his locks in the free air. The distant moun- 
tain ridge was aptly described by the speaker I have 
quoted, as it appeared from this point of vantage. 
These parallel ridges of the Alleghanies, viewed from 
a distance, have always impressed me with the thought 
of their having been thrown up, like the breastworks of 
an army of Titans, and smoothed off in their plastic state 
with a gigantic trowel. But a closer view always 
shows that the distance has in a large measure destroyed 
the effect of perspective, filling the nearer hollows 
with the more distant hills, and giving the appearance 


6 


Sim Greene. 


of a smoothness of outline where in reality there is much 
brokenness of contour. 

As the little group is seated on a great rock by the 
wayside and the others of the company, with the slow- 
moving animals, are coming up the side of the moun- 
tain, we will take an accounting of them. 

They were going to make their home in the valley of 
the Monongahela, then but a few years open to settle- 
ment, and not yet free from the peril of hostile sav- 
ages. Most of them were bound for the new town laid 
out by Colonel Stephen Bayard the year before, on 
the right bank of that stream, about twenty miles from 
its mouth, and named for his pretty young wife, Eliza- 
beth. Of the Bayards I shall have more to say as 
this narrative proceeds, and also of the village. Al- 
ready this had become an important point of departure 
by boat of families of emigrants thus early pushing 
down the valley of the Ohio, to find homes in the wil- 
derness of which it was the center. The village at 
once became a point for the building of the flat-boats, and 
keel-boats employed in that early navigation. Colonel 
Bayard had induced a number of boat builders to leave 
the East and take up their abode in his new settle- 
ment, with a promise of abundant work at good wages. 
A few had gone in the early spring and others were 
of this party. 

John Harden had been a ship carpenter in his 
native England. After his marriage, some sixteen 
years before, he and his bride had crossed the Atlantic, 
in the hope of finding better opportunities in the new 
world than the old afforded. They were accompanied 
by his sister. Harden was an inoffensive man when 
sober, but had formed the unfortunate habit of drink- 


Sim Greene 


7 


mg to excess. When under the influence of drink he 
was intolerable. Ever since coming to America, when 
in condition to work, he had been employed at his 
trade, first at Boston and then at Philadelphia, but now 
he was going to the West. He was undoubtedly a good 
workman, but I am inclined to the belief that Colonel 
Bayard’s agent did not know of his habits when he en- 
gaged him. 

The boy we have seen in the group on the rock was 
his son, Harold. He was a shy boy of fourteen, and 
rendered more so, I am sure, through shame for his 
father’s habits. His was one of those sensitive na- 
tures that is easily wounded and retires within itself 
rather than respond to any advances of sympathy. 
But I did not know him long before I was convinced 
that he was a high-minded lad and had in him quali- 
ties for making a noble man, if he would cultivate a 
little more self-assertion. He had lost his mother in 
his babyhood, but his aunt, the father’s sister, had done 
her best to take his mother’s place. 

Honest soul, that she did not fill up the measure 
was not the fault of her affectionate heart. The boy 
loved her devotedly, but it was ever one of his hidden 
griefs that he did not have a mother to whom he could 
open the most secret things of his heart. His aunt 
was kind to him and honestly sought to promote his 
happiness and comfort, but she was a practical woman 
and was incapable of deep spiritual insight and that 
soul-communion for which something in him seemed 
to hunger. As a child in his play he was wont to 
imagine the presence of his mother, and he often had 
long imaginary conversations with her. As he grew 
older, instead of passing away, this seemed to grow 


8 


Sim Greene. 


with his growth, and the mother whom he could not 
remember in the flesh became a very real presence to 
him. He would whisper his troubles to her, and then 
would conceive himself to feel a sense of soothing 
from her presence and sympathy. He even had a con- 
ception of her appearance, and this became very vivid 
to him — a face benign and gentle, which he could 
call up with his eyes closed. 

But, comforting though this was, it only made more 
poignant his grief that he could never have her real 
bodily presence with him. His father never would 
talk to him of his mother, the mention of her render- 
ing him morose if sober, and ugly if under the influ- 
ence of drink. His aunt put him off when he ques- 
tioned her, with the promise that she would tell him of 
his mother when be became older. So she continued to 
All her place in the quiet boy’s thoughts, the fancied 
presence being a mixed pain and delight. 

The aunt was christened Hannah Rebecca, but this 
had, in its general use, been shortened to Hannerybeck 
— accent strong on the last syllable. Thus she was 
known to everybody except her nephew, who called 
her Aunt Hannah, or more often simply Auntie. She 
was the only person of whom her brother stood in 
fear, and although her strong-minded personality and 
the vigor with which she asserted herself were not 
sufficient to keep him from his periodical sprees, they 
did make him fertile in expedients for conciliating her 
when he had thus offended. She had frequently stood 
between Harold and abuse at the hands of his father 
when he was drinking, and had sought to rear the lad 
with high ideals of right and duty. 

The other boat builders of the party were Duncan 


Sim Greene. 


9 


Berringer and John Scott, the latter a draftsman of 
considerable ability. Both were young men, accom- 
panied by their wives, and the two children before 
mentioned as riding in the hickory creels were mem- 
bers of their respective families. Each family also 
had a babe about a year old. 

Daniel Colling was a widower with two daughters. 
He was going out to take up land for farming. He 
came from the Hew Jersey coast, having been en- 
couraged by reports from some friends who had al- 
ready penetrated the wilderness, to make this toilsome 
journey with his daughters. Wonderful stories were 
told of the fruitfulness of the soil in the country adja- 
cent to the Monongahela. 

Mabel, the younger of his girls, was the one of 
whom note has already been made. She was a saucy 
little sprite, with eyes like the blue of her native At- 
lantic and hair which seemed to have caught and held 
the gleam of sunlight that its waters reflected. 

Her sister, a girl of twenty at this time, was eight 
years her senior. I think the world would not con- 
sider her beautiful, but her earnest and honest brown 
eyes, her wavy brown hair, with just a glint of sub- 
dued gold where it caught the light, the firm mouth, 
the even and well moulded features, made a most pleas^ 
ant picture. She was erect of carriage and had a 
womanly grace which doubtless came to her the earlier 
because she was called so young to the responsibilities 
and care of the home and of the younger sister. I 
thought when I first looked into Mary Colling’s face, 
that it was the sweetest one I had ever beheld — and 
I still think so. 

The man on the rock with the two young people was 


10 


Sim Greene. 


Simeon Greene, or Sim, as he was generally known. 
He had been one of Ethan Allen’s Green Mountain 
Boys, and beginning with the brilliant exploit at Ti- 
conderoga, had fought all through the Kevolution in 
the patriot army. Since then he had been a hunter, 
trapper and wood-chopper in various sections. Ele 
had been making his quarters for a year or two in 
the part of the Monongahela valley to which our party 
was headed, and was on his way back there after a trip 
to Virginia, joining this company at Carlisle. As he 
knew the way well and was a thorough woodsman, he 
was a valuable acquisition and was warmly welcomed. 
He was soon a favorite with all, and had established 
specially cordial relations with the boy and girl in 
whose company we found him. His genial ways, his 
songs, stories and whimsical sayings made him par- 
ticularly companionable. He had a vocabulary con- 
taining many words that I never heard before, and I 
doubt if anybody else ever did. 

Sim soon drew Harold partially out of the reserve 
and backwardness which were natural with him. 
With the contempt of a boy of his age for girls younger 
than himself, he did not at first like the equality on 
which Sim seemed to place them in his attentions. 
Having an ardent love for the woods and already a 
longing to participate in the excitement of the chase, 
he preferred to monopolize the company of the hunter. 
But the winsomeness of the little maid, when he came 
to know her well, made him ashamed of that feeling. 
After Sim joined the party these three somehow were 
drawn together in a little group of their own. 

The remaining member of the party was he who 
has set himself to the loving task of chronicling these 


Sim Greene. 


11 


events and those which followed, David Froman, aged 
three and twenty, who was going ouFtd~he~tEe~school- 
master in the little town. 

The others of the party were all strangers to me until 
we entered upon this journey, hut acquaintance ripens 
rapidly under such circumstances, and already they 
were all like old friends. 


CHAPTER II. 


A TERROR BY NIGHT. 

O UR party had left Philadelphia two weeks be- 
fore, and the progress was slow all the time, 
the heavily laden wagons and horses making 
this a matter of necessity. We were also delayed by 
the slowness of our cattle which were, from the consid- 
eration of subsistence, a very important part of our out- 
fit. Reasonably good progress was made in the level 
and old settled parts east of the Susquehanna, which 
broad stream was crossed at Chambers’s ferry, three 
miles below the present city of Harrisburg. How 
that we were among the mountains, but slight advance 
could be made, only a few miles being covered in a 
day. The road up the two ridges already passed was 
very steep and stony, but on this, the Tuscarora moun- 
tain, it greatly exceeded in this particular. 

So, as both man and beast were wearied with the day’s 
exertions, and the afternoon was well advanced, a stop 
for the night encampment was made, soon after pass- 
ing the summit, by the side of a stream of limpid 
water. Quickly the camp preparations were made and 
fires were burning brightly and roaring. The women 
busied themselves with preparations for the evening 
meal, which on this occasion, as was usual, included 
game and fish taken by the prowess and skill of the 
men of the party during the day. To appetites wheb 
ted by the exertions of the preceding hours in the brac- 
12 


Sim Greene. 


13 


ing air of the mountains, the smell of the cooking was 
tantalizing. But we were not kept long in waiting. 
The meal was as good as its prophecy. 

Supper over, the party gathered in groups around 
the fires, for in this altitude the evenings were already 
sufficiently cool to make the heat welcome. And there 
is always something cheery about a crackling fire in 
the woods at night. We discussed the events of the 
day, our plans for the future in the new homes to 
which we were going, and the various other themes 
which would come up in a company thus situated. 
These evening gatherings afforded a better opportunity 
for those of us who had not known one another before 
entering upon this expedition to become acquainted 
than we had when on the move. 

Harold, as usual, was an attentive listener to what 
Sim was saying, and Sim never ran out of something 
to say. Unlike many people thus gifted, what he 
said was worth the hearing, for it was often instruc- 
tive, always entertaining and never uncharitable to 
others. He was possessed of a large fund of informa- 
tion, acquired through his faculty of close observation, 
and his career had brought him through many inter- 
esting and exciting experiences. In his homely phrase 
he could well describe what he had seen, and as I have 
already intimated, often employed most unusual words 
in doing so. 

Harold had become intensely interested in wood- 
craft, and to him Sim was an oracle on this subject. 
Already, under the hunter’s instruction, the boy could 
tell at a glance the names of many of the forest trees 
which before to him had been but trees only. The 
gray and closely checkered bark and rounded extremi- 


14 


Sim Greene. 


ties of leaves told him what was white oak, in distinc- 
tion to the differing bark and sharp pointed leaves of 
the black oak and red oak, these again being readily dis- 
tinguished respectively by the polish or lack of it on 
the face of the leaf. The tall, straight bole and large, 
handsome leaf of the tulip-tree (poplar), the deeply 
indented leaf of the sassafras and the varied charac- 
teristic marks of the different species of maples and 
walnuts, ash, chestnut, beech and other trees common 
to these mountains and their intervening valleys were 
already familiar to him. Wild plums and cherries, 
the succulent fox grapes and the smaller but tasty com- 
mon wild grapes had already been secured, and added 
their relish to the fare of the travelers. The boy 
could tell at a glance any of the trees or vines yield- 
ing these fruits, and his acquaintance with the furry 
and feathered denizens of the forest was widening rap- 
idly. 

This evening, from topics connected with the day’s 
events, Sim’s conversation led gradually to his war 
experiences, and was stimulated thereto by the inquiries 
of the younger members of the party, for whom thig 
theme always had a peculiar charm. Gradually the 
other groups had broken up and their members had 
gathered around the hunter, who was in the midst of 
a description of the taking of Fort Ticonderoga. 

a We wuz at Bennington in the spring uv 1775, an’ 
Colonel Allen had gethered somethin’ over two hun- 
dred uv us together. Ther’ wuzn’t a man in the gang 
but what thought the old man wuz abaout the top notch 
when it kem to doin’ things, an’ we’d ’a’ follered him 
anywheres. He tuk the notion that we could make 
purty good use uv old Ticonderoga. Colonel Benedict 


Sim Greene. 


15 


Arnold had taken the same notion an’ arrived there 
jest afore we started, intendin' tew organize an ex- 
pedition fur the same purpose. But when he faound 
that the projeck had been started by Allen an' the 
comp’ny wuz ready tew start, he gave up his notion an' 
j’ined it. Ther’s no denyin’ that Arnold wuz a good 
solger an' a brave man. It’s tew bad haow he went 
wrong later. 

“ Waal, the old man wuzn’t long in gettin’ ready tew 
strike, an’ when he struck it wuz a sockdollager uv a 
lick that made them Britishers see stars. The old man 
divided his little force, takin’ a hundred an’ forty uv 
us to Shoreham, on the lake, opposite the fort, an’ 
directin’ that the remainder approach frum the land 
side by makin’ a detour. Only the officers an’ eighty- 
three men had got acrost the lake when the day began 
tew dawn, an’ the land force could not hev kem up yet. 
Daylight would hev sp’iled the plan, so Allen resolved 
tew go ahead with the force he had. 

“ We kem right up on the sentinel at the entrance 
uv the fort before he diskivered that anything wuz 
wrong. He snapped his gun at the Colonel, who wuz 
in the lead, but fortunately it didn’t go off, an’ then 
the man retreated, runnin’ intew the fort. We fol- 
lered, glad tew hev sech a guide, an’ wuz brought 
right in on the parade. The sentinel on the inside 
made a thrust at Easton, the second in command, but 
Allen brought him a snollygoster alongside uv the head 
with the flat uv his sword, an’ that settled his hash 
fur a while. 

“ The solgers there wuz quickly made pris’ners, an’ 
the old man gave orders which tuk him on a trot tew 
the apartment uv the commandant uv the fort. His 


1G 


Sim Greene. 


guide didn’t care tew linger on the way, with the p’int 
uv a sword ticklin’ his back all the way. Allen beat 
on the door with the hilt uv his sword, an’ thundered 
aout fur Cap’n Delaplace tew appear immejately, or 
he’d sacrifice the hull garrison. The Cap’n soon 
opened the door, lookin’ purty foolish. He’d jest 
jumped aout uv bed an’ pulled his britches on. Sez 
he, 6 By whose authority is sech a command given \ ’ 

‘ In the name uv the Great Jehovah an’ the Conti- 
nental Congress ! ’ thundered back the old man. 

“ Waal, Delaplace wuz completely flumbergusted, 
hut ther’ wuz nothin’ else to dew but tew give in. 
I’ve always been glad I wuz there, fur it wuz the first 
important success uv the struggle.” 

The story of the fall of Ticonderoga had not been 
written in the histories then, so as to make it so gen- 
erally familiar as it is with us, and this homely re- 
cital. of the stirring scenes attendant on it, from the 
lips of one of the actors in those scenes, was intensely 
interesting to our little company, gathered there, that 
night, on the lonely mountain side. We were still dis- 
cussing this and the other events of the war suggested 
by it, when Sim held up his hand as a signal for si- 
lence, and at once all became quiet. For a time noth- 
ing was heard save the gentle rustle made by the breeze 
in the treetops. Then came a faint, plaintive, wailing 
cry from some point in the depth of the forest. We 
all heard it, and one of the women exclaimed: 

“ Oh, it is a little child lost in the woods ! Let us 
find it.” 

She had put my thought into words, for that ex- 
actly described the cry as it fell on my ears. Some 
started up to go at once, but were stopped by Sim who 


Sim Greene. 


17 


said he would “ look after the youngon’.” He ex- 
changed a few words in a low tone with Berringer 
who, next to him, was the most experienced man of 
the party in woodcraft, and they at once began looking 
to the priming of their guns and strapping on their 
powder horns and bullet pouches. By Sim’s direc- 
tion more wood was now piled on the fires, which by 
this time had burned low, and they were soon blazing 
up brightly. In times calling for the exercise of the pe- 
culiar kind of knowledge he possessed, the direction of 
affairs was, by common consent, vested in the old sol- 
dier and hunter, and nobody thought of questioning 
his authority. By this time we were all convinced 
that there was some lurking peril in the dark woods, 
but Sim’s manner did not invite questioning, and we 
went about doing the things he suggested. 

“ You, Davy [to me], will keep the fires goin’. 
Colling an’ Scott an’ Harden ’d better look after the 
hosses and caows, an’ they may hev their han’s full. 
All keep in camp, close tew the fires, an’ I reckon we’ll 
soon be back.” 

He and Berringer then quietly slipped away, going 
in a direction opposite to that from which the sounds 
seemed to come. We had heard the cry once or twice 
again, and it seemed to be becoming more distinct. 
It was a time of intense yet subdued excitement in 
the camp. The horses were plainly uneasy, trembling 
and from time to time emitting low whinnies. The 
three men saw to their double fastening, and then 
sought to soothe them with low words and gentle hand- 
ing. They did not dare to leave them. The cattle 
also were in a state bordering on panic, but they had 
been securely tethered, and could not get away. Pre- 
2 


18 


Sim Greene. 


vious to this time they had been lying, contentedly 
chewing their cuds, but now they were moving about 
uneasily, and every minute winding themselves closer 
to the saplings to which they had been tied. 

I soon had the fires in shape that they could be left 
for a while, and then joined the group of women and 
children, who were huddled together, the most of them 
plainly in terror, and discussing in whispers the prob- 
able cause of the strange interruption and its possible 
consequences. Mrs. Scott, who had first spoken, ad- 
hered to the idea that there was a child in distress, 
and as the sound continued to be heard occasionally, 
it did seem that such must be the case. Some thought 
at once of Indians, then the great terror of the western 
border, but I told them that had Sim thought it that, 
he would have ordered the fires to be put out rather 
than to be built up. I also told them that for some 
time the red men had not been known to venture into 
this section. Mrs. Berringer, who had been in one 
of the wagons, putting her baby to sleep, had not heard 
the first alarm. She only had a word from her hus- 
band as he passed her in leaving, to the effect that he 
was going a little distance and would soon be back. 
She was now sobbing convulsively, not knowing into 
what peril he had gone. The small children, affected 
by the pervading terror without attempting to learn 
what it portended, began to cry, and their mothers 
sought to soothe them, though plainly betraying their 
own fear. 

I was struck with the coolness of Harold at this 
time. The shrinking, backward boy was now fully 
self-possessed. He helped me with the fires, and then 
tried to reassure the girls and women. He did not 


Sim Greene. 


19 


express an opinion as to what it all might mean, but 
was confident in the assertion of his belief that Sim 
knew what he was about and all would come out well. 
Mary Colling was paler than usual, hut was calm, and 
sought to comfort her sister, who cowered, trembling, 
in her arms. 

There is something peculiarly unnerving and pro- 
ductive of terror in a peril by night, in the depths of 
the forest, with its exact nature unknown. I confess 
that while I was putting on the bravest front possible, 
before the women and children, I was filled with an 
indefinable dread. I do not think I am a coward, but 
I like to know what is the nature of danger impend- 
ing, and from what source to expect it. It could not 
have been very many minutes that we remained there 
thus, but it appeared to be a long while. Everything 
seemed to become vocal with the pervading terror. It 
was whispered in the low sighing of the breeze in the 
treetops, and proclaimed in solemn tones by the hoot- 
ing of a distant owl. Anon would come the plaintive 
wail that first attracted attention, and from time to 
time from the cattle would be emitted that strange 
hollow sound called from animals of the bovine kind 
only by the smell of blood or the proximity of some- 
thing which their instinct tells them has a menace of 
danger. 

My training had not been in the woods, but I had 
an impression that there must be some living creature 
lurking in the darkness about us, which threatened 
danger. ITow long I could have kept up my brave 
front I do not know, hut suddenly relief came in the 
sharp crack of a rifle at a short distance from us, but 
in a direction opposite to that taken by Sim and Ber- 


so 


Sim Greene. 


ringer when they left the camp. To me almost any- 
thing would have been a relief just then. The sound 
was quickly followed by a blood-curdling cry, a heavy 
fall and thrashing about in the underbrush, and then 
another shot. Comparative silence followed this, and 
then a reassuring shout from Sim. He and Ber- 
ringer were soon in camp again. 

“ It’s abaout the biggest painter I’ve seed in three 
year,” said Sim ; “ a reg’lar golbuster ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


SOME NEW FRIENDS MADE. 

S IM’S trained ears had told him that the sounds 
we had heard were made by a panther kitten, and 
he surmised, rightly as it proved, that the moth- 
er was lurking about in the vicinity. So, as they re- 
counted to us, he and Berringer left the camp to go ap- 
parently in a direction away from that indicated by the 
sounds, but made a detour, and with the utmost quiet- 
ness slipped around so as to bring them in a line be- 
tween the camp and where they supposed the kitten 
to be. They remained quiet for a time, with eyes 
and ears strained, and finally heard the cry again, 
followed quickly by a low, snarling growl, which evi- 
dently was intended as an admonition to the young 
creature to be quiet, hut was very guardedly made, 
so as not to he heard by the denizens of the camp. 
Watching closely for a time in the trees whence this 
sound seemed to come, they soon perceived a huge, 
dark shape crouching on the limbs, and with the ut- 
most caution making its way towards the camp. With 
like caution the men on the ground followed it, seem- 
ingly unobserved by it 

Finally, as the camp was approached nearer, the 
firelight shining among the trees enabled them to make 
out the shape more distinctly, and they made prepa- 
rations for the attack on the great creature. Berringer 
was to shoot first. He was just getting in position 
21 


22 


Sim Greene. 


to do this to the best advantage when a twig broke 
under his foot with a sharp, crackling noise, and in 
an instant the panther whirled itself about. It evi- 
dently saw the men under the trees and scarcely a rod 
in the rear, and without a moment’s hesitation, gath- 
ered itself for a spring upon them. This really was 
fortunate, for it brought the creature in better posi- 
tion for an effective shot. The body of the great cat 
was now clearly outlined, and Berringer’s shot rang 
out just as the tense muscles were relaxing in the 
spring. The effect of it was to make the leap fall 
short of the spot intended by the creature, which was 
badly hurt, but still capable of doing much damage. 
Sim got a shot in a vital part, and the big beast w 7 as 
soon dead. 

The men skinned it that night before we slept. By 
direction of Sim, a close watch was kept for its mate, 
which might be prowling about in the vicinity, and 
we took turns in guarding the camp all through the 
night to prevent a surprise, but the mate did not ap- 
pear. Some of the men wanted to go in search of 
the young panther that night, but Sim said it would 
be next to impossible to find it among the underbrush 
in the darkness, and it would almost certainly remain 
in the vicinity, looking for its dam. Nothing more 
was heard of it that night, the sounds having ap- 
parently scared it into silence. The next morning it 
was found lurking in the bushes near where the body 
of the greater beast lay, and was dispatched with a 
shot, its pelt being added to that of its dam. 

The big panther was of unusual size. Of the party, 
only Sim had seen one which he thought was larger. 


Sim Greene. 


23 


In answer to queries about this, he intimated that it 
involved a story, and he promised to tell this later. 

I can see him yet, after all these years, as he looked 
that day, and as he always looked, except on a few 
state occasions afterwards when I saw him rigged out 
in a long blue coat, a buff waistcoat and blue trousers, 
with a high collar and stock that I know were torture 
to him. But now he wore the common dress of the 
woodsman of the border at that period. 

His feet were encased in moccasins of dressed deer- 
skin, the Indians having furnished the pattern. Each 
was of a single piece, with a gathering seam along 
the top of the foot and a seam, without gather, from 
the bottom of the heel up the back to the height 
of the ankles. Flaps were left on each side to reach 
some distance up the legs, and deerskin thongs, or 
“ whangs/’ as they were called, laced these about over 
the leggings and for gathering strings along the top 
of the foot. The leggings were also of deerskin. The 
breeches, shirt and jacket were of the common fashion 
which men have continued to wear. 

But the dominating feature of the dress was the 
hunting shirt, a garment almost universally worn by 
the men of the border at that time. It was a kind of 
loose frock, reaching half way down the thighs, with 
large sleeves. It was open at the front, and made so 
wide as to lap over a foot or more when belted. The 
bosom was thus baggy, and served as a wallet in which 
various things were carried, such as tow for wiping 
the rifle, and often bread, parched com and dried 
meat, when the wearer was on a hunt or other long 
journey. The belt was tied behind, and besides hold- 
ing the garment in at the waist, served as a support 


24 


Sim Greene. 


for holding the tomahawk, knife and bullet bag. The 
hunting shirt had a large cape which hung down over 
the shoulders and was fringed by slitting the material 
if it was of buckskin, as was Sim’s, or by ravelling 
it out if of woven texture. 

The cap of ’coonskin completed his attire. This 
was made of the hide of a raccoon, tanned with the fur 
on, and the ringed tail was still attached to it at the 
top, falling to one side or tossing about as he walked. 
The whole, making up an attire then the most common 
in the region to which we were going, was to my mind 
more picturesque than any style of dress since adopted 
by men, and more serviceable and rational than many 
things they now wear. 

Sim Greene could not at that time have been very 
far advanced in the forties, but the exposure and 
strain of a life such as he had lived since boyhood had 
tanned and seamed his face until it looked older. His 
hair was worn long and was inclined to curl, and like 
the straggling beard which covered his cheeks, chin and 
lip, was brown, slightly mixed with gray. His eyes 
were gray and habitually had in them the twinkle 
which betokened his good nature. He was tall, raw- 
boned and erect. 

We made better progress that day than the one be- 
fore, our course for the most of it being down the 
mountain side and across the next valley. We had be- 
fore met parties of horsemen journeying to the east of 
the mountains for supplies that could not then be ob- 
tained in the western country, and that day we met two 
such parties. In one of them Sim recognized men who 
came from the country adjacent to the Monongahela, 
in the section to which we were journeying, and as it 


Sim Greene. 


25 


was near the middle of the day, we were glad to halt 
with them and have our meal together. There were 
more than a dozen men in the party, all mounted and 
most of them leading pack-horses. They told us they 
always arranged beforehand and traveled in companies 
for mutual protection, as well as for the pleasures of 
companionship. Two of the principal commodities 
they always carried back were salt and iron, for the 
new country was yet wholly devoid of these necessary 
things.* They also had to buy in the East any kind of 
woven cloth they might desire, aside from the linsey 
which was the product of the hand loom — a part of 
the furnishing of nearly every western home in those 
days ; and usually they brought a few ribbons and other 
gewgaws for the women and girls. 

They employed pack-horses rather than wagons, for 
the reason that the journey could be made much more 
expeditiously with these. I noticed that nearly all of 
these men were taking spirits with them. Indeed 
whisky was the principal thing carried by the pack- 
horses, along with some peltry and ginseng. I had 
heard of the excellence of the whisky made in the 
western country, for the fame of the Monongahela 
product, even at that early time, had spread over all 
the older settlements. But I learned now that their 
whisky was almost the sole medium of exchange among 
the people by whom it was made. Their rich soil pro- 
duced much more grain than was needed for the sus- 
tenance of man and beast, and they were so far from 
other markets, and the means of transportation were 
so limited, that the cereals could not be sold at a 

* Think of carrying iron to Pittsburgh and the Monongahela 
valley ! 


26 


Sim Greene. 


profit, either in the form of grain or meal. Hence 
they distilled them into whisky, and in that portable 
form could get their product to market and realize a 
good profit. 

This company and others we passed had their whisky 
in kegs and jugs, and these were slung across the backs 
of the animals, either in sacks or supported on the 
pack-saddles by thongs. We were given opportunity 
to test its quality, for with those whole-souled people 
it was not to be thought of that there could be an ex- 
change of hospitality without passing the bottle. 
Drinking of ardent spirits was then well nigh univer- 
sal, and the host would be thought seriously derelict in 
hospitality who failed to set out the bottle and glass 
when any of his neighbors came into his house for any 
purpose. As my good pastor, the Reverend Joseph 
Smith, says in his interesting book on early Presby- 
terianism in western Pennsylvania, which has come 
from the press just when I am writing these memoirs, 
“ A man could not be born, married or buried without 
the presence and free use of whisky.’’ The long-necked 
bottle was set out even when the minister called, and 
no social function or frolic could have been held with- 
out its presence, unless to the scandalizing of the one 
who would have dared to make such an innovation. 
That was before the Washingtonian movement, or the 
Sons of Temperance, or other organizations of like aim. 
It was the prevailing belief that the climate of our 
country made it necessary to drink ardent spirits for 
the preservation of the health. Prequent exposure in 
the violence of the elements, and the widespread notion 
that distilled liquors had medicinal virtue of a high 
order, strengthened that belief. Whatever we may 


Sim Greene. 


27 


think of it in these days, we all drank in those, and 
the traffic in intoxicants was deemed as respectable as 
any other line of trade. 

The men we met and dined with that day impressed 
me as being open-hearted, whole-souled people. We 
had many questions to ask concerning things in the new 
country, and they answered to the best of their ability. 
Daniel Colling was specially interested in some who 
came from west of the Monongahela, for it was there 
he expected to make his home. All of the party had 
emigrated from east of the mountains in the few years 
preceding. Some of them were of Quaker stock, but 
for the most part they were Scotch-Irish. 

During the course of the conversation which ensued 
the subject of the excise on whisky came up, and th£ 
men without exception expressed strong opposition to 
it, speaking of it as an unjust burden to impose on 
them, and declaring their firm purpose to resist every 
effort for its collection. They had a good deal of fun 
over their reminiscences of one Graham, an official 
who had attempted to enforce this state law in the coun- 
try west of the mountains a few years before. They 
told, with hearty laughs, of his wig having been singed, 
coals put in his boots and other indignities heaped 
upon him, until finally a crowd caught him, shaved his 
head and then chased him out of the country, with a 
warning never to come back. I learned then that the 
law imposing a tax on spirits had never been success- 
fully enforced in the country west of the mountains, 
and a number of these men declared it never would be. 
I had been reared with a reverence for all law, and it 
was a shock to me to hear men, who seemed of such 
excellent parts otherwise, talking in this defiant spirit 


28 


Sim Greene. 


concerning an enactment of the state. I was to learn 
later that this question trenched on prejudices inbred 
for centuries in many of them and on matters of their 
highest self-interest. 

We passed a pleasant hour with these men. They 
inquired concerning our plans, and to a man they prom- 
ised to turn out and bring their neighbors to aid in the 
work of establishing homes for those for whom these 
had not been prepared. We then parted, they pursu- 
ing their way to the eastward and we pushing on 
towards the new homes beyond the mountains, well 
pleased that our lot was to be cast among such pleasant 
people as these seemed to be. Because they could travel 
with more speed than could we, they expected to make 
their journey and be back home about the time we ar- 
rived at our destination, and thus could fulfill their 
promise of help. 

The afternoon journey was made without special in- 
cident. I never tired of the noble forest which cov- 
ered the whole country, save where some hardy settler 
had laid a section of it low, that he might coax a living 
from this mountain region, or those other places where 
a particularly destructive forest fire had raged and 
deadened the trees. But the clearings were not many, 
for most of those who had pushed westward from the 
older settlements east of the mountains had passed en- 
tirely over the barrier, lured by the promise of much 
richer land beyond, and these breaks in the forest were 
not great as compared with its whole extent. At some 
places the spaces between the trees were open and park- 
like, but for the most part the ground was rocky and 
covered with a dense growth of laurel and other under- 
brush. 


Sim Greene. 


29 


Once a young bear suddenly fell from a tree by tbe 
roadside, and hastily scrambling to its feet, trotted 
away among tbe bushes. Nobody with a gun happened 
to be at that part of the line at the time, so, having 
secured a good start, it was allowed to go its way. 
Again the forward horses stopped suddenly on the 
sharp warning given by a rattlesnake, as they will al- 
ways do under like circumstances, and the serpent, a 
mottled monster with eight rattles and a button, was 
dispatched by some of the men. But these were not 
out of the ordinary in the things that went to make up 
the record of a day’s journey. I mention them to 
show how the events of those early days were impressed 
on my memory and have remained with me. Events 
of much greater moment which occurred later have so 
passed from my memory that only shadowy outlines of 
them now exist there. How indelibly remain the im- 
pressions made in happy youth ! Yea, it seems that as 
our feet begin to slip and the ties on earth to loosen, ere 
we go on the long journey just before, these things take 
on even more distinctness as they hang like pictures on 
memory’s walls. 

There were many squirrels seen on the way, and 
they were working on the nuts and acorns. Our men 
every day, without the necessity of going far from the 
road, could bring down enough to keep our table sup- 
plied, and I was making considerable progress towards 
proficiency in marksmanship, so that my rifle did some 
execution in that line. Thus we had that evening, when 
the halt was called for the night’s camp, as we usually 
had, a plentiful supply for the supper and the next 
morning meal. The camp was pitched beside a stream, 
for on that journey a constant watch had to be main- 


30 


Sim Greene. 


tained for a water supply. The season was, and had 
been for many weeks, a notably dry one, and the moun- 
tain streams were neither so copious nor so numerous 
as usual, many of them having dried up completely. 
The friends from whom we parted that day told us the 
drought was even worse in the country on the western 
slope of the main ridge. 

After supper, when we had gathered around the camp- 
fire, Sim was reminded of his promised story, and gave 
it to us. I wish I could bring to the reader all the 
charm that was in his telling of it, but that I cannot 
do. However, I will give it as nearly as I can in his 
language. 


CHAPTEK IV. 


SIm’s “ PAINTER ” STORY. 

4 4 T T WUZ abaout three years ago, when I wuz in 
Virginia, that I met up with the big painter 
Pm goin’ tew tell you abaout. We tramped 
purty well over that kentry in the war, for afore the end 
I saw consid’able service in the south, an’ wuz at York- 
taown when Cornwallis handed over his rib-sticker to 
Gener’l Washington. Don’t know as I done much tew 
carry on the war, but guess I purty nigh see the be- 
ginnin’ an’ the endin’ on’t. 

“ When I got my discharge I made up my mind tew 
go daown intew the Valley uv Virginia again, for it 
struck me it wuz abaout as likely a kentry fur my line 
— * which was huntin’ an’ trappin’, when I wuz not 
choppin’ timber — • as any place I had struck, an’ I 
hadn’t kith or kin tew take me anywheres in pa’ticular. 
Then it’s a most remarkable section uv kentry daown 
thar. Ever been in them parts, any uv you ? ” 

None could be found in the party who had ever been 
there. 

“ Waal, ther’s big, bold maountain peaks, an’ water- 
falls, an’ caves that hev the most wonderful kerdoodle- 
ments a-hangin’ in them that ever you see. Jest like 
big icicles, only they’re made uv rock. Some’s as white 
as snow; some’s a purty yeller, like gold; some’s got 
red an’ braown streaks on ’em, an’ they’re ringed an’ 
furrowed iest like real icicles. Then ther’s other con- 
31 


33 


Sim Greene. 


traptions like them a-stickin’ up frum the floor, an’ 
some places they reach frum the floor clean to the 
ceilin’. Then I saw them for all the world lookin’ like 
big curtains that you would think a puff uv wind would 
make to flap abaout. 

“ I wuz in Rockbridge caounty, an’ that ’minds me 
uv another mighty cur ’us thing thar that gives the 
caounty its name. That’s the Natchurl Bridge. The 
water has cut a hole through the solid limestone rock, 
an’ has deepened an’ deepened it till naow where the 
little stream flows through, if the biggest tree you can 
see in these woods wuz a-growin’ thar, its top ’d not 
nigh touch the rock at the arch, an’ the ends uv its 
widest branches ’d not more than brush the sides. Ther 5 
wuz a lot uv names cut on the face uv the rock when 
I wuz thar, an’ they told a yarn abaout Gener’l Wash- 
ington havin’ dim’ up an’ cut hisn’ above the rest, 
when he wuz a boy, but I c’d never find it. 

“ Daown thar the Blue Ridge continues jest abaout 
as it is hyar, an’ likewise the Alleghany Ridge, but 
these ridges in between seem tew ’ave got kinder flum- 
mixed up, an’ instead uv continuous maountain chains, 
it is jest a broken up hill kentry in that part uv what 
they call the Valley uv Virginia. 

“ Waal, tew come tew my story, I had been choppin’ 
timber on them hills, along with a gang uv abaout a 
dozen men. We got more piled up than they could get 
away, an’ we had to knock off fur a few days. I wuz 
wantin’ some supplies, an’ I told my pardner, Jim 
Burns, that I wuz a-goin’ over tew Lexington tew get 
’em, an’ he needn’t expeck me back fur a few days, as 
I wanted tew examine some uv the hill kentry I had 
not yet visited, for trappin’ prospecks. 


Sim Greene. 


33 


“ I shouldered my rifle an’ started off. It wuz 
abaout this time uv the year, an’ the day wuz as purty 
a one as you ever see. I took my course over the wild- 
est part uv the hills, an’ it wuz not long afore I begun 
tew see signs uv game. I picked aout sever’l places 
that I thought ’d be good fur traps, an’ faound one that * 
wuz pa’ticularly promisin’ fur otter. This wuz beside 
a tol’able sized crick, an’ as it wuz nigh the middle uv 
the day, I coucluded to set daown thar an’ hev my 
snack uv jerk an’ pone. It wuz a purty spot, with big 
trees a-growin’ all araound, an’ but little underbrush. 
Jest at my back wuz a paowerful big sugar tree, an’ 
its knarly roots wuz a-kinkin’ up above the graound 
on all sides uv it. 

“ I had noticed that the sky wuz gettin’ overcast 
afore that, but naow become aware fur the first time 
that ther’ wuz goin’ tew be a shaower very soon. I 
got up an’ begun tew gather my things together, tew 
get on my way, but wuz hardly more than on my feet 
until a slight rustle among the leaves in a tree behind 
me caused me tew wheel araound, an’ thar wuz the big- 
gest painter I ever see jest a-gatherin’ itself fur a 
spring on me. I brought my gun up an’ fired jest as 
it wuz leavin’ the baough. 

“ At the same time it seemed tew me that all the fire 
uv hell flamed up araound me, an’ ther’ wuz a shock 
like as if everything had gone tew everlastin’ smither- 
eens. Then I didn’t know anything more. 

“ I don’t know haow long I wuz a-lyin’ thar oncon- 
scious, an’ I didn’t come tew all tew onct. I kinder 
dreamed, an’ thought I’d been shot up in the air abaout 
fourteen mile, an’ wuz naow slowly settlin’ daown 
again. I c’d see that big painter a-sailin’ through the 
3 


34 


Sim Greene. 


air, tew, an’ it wuz gettin’ nigher an’ nigher tew me. 
Finally I seemed tew reach the yairth, an’ settled 
daown on it jest as light an’ easy as a feather would. 
But the big catamount wuz a-comin’ at a tremenjous 
rate, an’ I didn’t seem tew hev any we’pons. Thinks 
I, I better get up an’ dust aout uv this, but when I tried 
tew dew it, I faound something had hold uv my laig, 
an’, tug as I would, I couldn’t budge it. I think the 
fright uv that diskivery brought me fully to my senses, 
or mebbe it wuz the rain that the next minute I faound 
patterin’ daown in my face. 

“ Waal, I faound a very interestin’ state uv affairs 
when I looked araound. I wuz on the broad of my 
back, an’, sure enough, my laig wuz held tight enough. 
The painter wuz there, tew, but I soon see I had no 
cause fur oneasiness concernin’ him. It seems that 
jest at the instant I shot, the storm broke an’ a bolt uv 
lightnin’ struck the big tree under which I wuz stand- 
in’. It wuz split intew half a dozen sections, an’ each 
uv these fell tew its own side, so ther’ wuz splintered 
wood over abaout half an acre uv graound. One big 
branch had caught the painter in mid-air an’ carried 
it aout uv its course somewhat, then brought it daown 
kerplunk on its belly, with the weight uv it across the 
critter’s back. The painter wuz plum dead when I 
first see it, an’ it wuz flattened aout till it ’minded me 
uv a pelt stretched aout tew dry, only the eyes wuz 
there yet — but they looked abaout ready to pop aout. 
I tell you it wuz spread aout as flat as a pancake. 

“ I wuz only a little better off, as I soon begun tew 
believe. I s’pose I’d been stunned by the lightnin’. 
In my fall, my left laig, jest above the ankle, had 
dropped intew one uv the little hollows in the kinky 


Sim Greene. 


35 


roots uv the tree, an’ the butt end uv the same baough 
that wuz on the painter had fallen over it. No pris- 
’ner in the stocks wuz ever held tighter than wuz 
Simeon Greene on that mem’rable occasion. My foot 
an’ laig felt cramped an’ sore, an’ at first I thought the 
bones must be crushed an’ broken, but I soon faound 
I c’d work my toes an’ ankle j’int, an’, with a little 
effort, c’d turn the laig araound intew a little more 
easy position, so that the blood c’d circ’late in the foot 
again. But as fur gettin’ it aout, that wuz a dead un- 
possibility. 

“ Tug an’ pull as I would, nothin’ would give a 
mite, an’ ten men couldn’t ’ave lifted the big piece uv 
timber off, an’ the root wuz fixed thar, abaout as firm 
as the everlastin’ hills. I then thought tew try tew 
chop the branch or the root away, but remembered at 
onct. that I had been blazin’ a mark fur directin’ me 
tew the place I had in mind fur the otter trap, an’ I 
had left the hatchet thar, a rod away frum whar I 
naow wuz. Then I reached fur my knife, as the next 
best thing, an’, by the long tow rope, it wuz gone ! It 
had slipped frum the sheath when I fell. I thought it 
must be on the graound beside me or under me, but it 
wuz not. Then I thought it must be stickin’ abaout 
my clothes somewhar, but the most careful search 
failed to diskiver it. I was jest on the edge uv the 
little stream, an’ after lookin’ everywhar else, cast my 
eye on that, an’, sure enough, thar it wuz, plain to be 
seen, lyin’ on the bottom uv the crick, in the clear 
water. It had slid daown the bank an’ aout along the 
slippery rock that formed the bottom uv the stream, an’ 
it wuz clean aout uv my reach. 

“ Waal, hyar wuz a haow-de-do. If I c’d get that 


36 


Sim Greene. 


knife, I c’d hack myself free in time. Then I thought 
uv my ramrod, an’ wuz delighted tew find that I c’d 
reach it with that by stretchin’ my utmost. But it wuz 
ticklish, fur the current wuz swift thar, an’ I c’d not 
bring much pressure tew bear on the knife with the 
limber ramrod, the very end uv which I had tew hold 
between my fingers and thumb, while the other end 
jest reached the knife. I wuz jest abaout to give up 
with the ramrod an’ try with the gun, which wuz 
longer, when a motion uv my stick caused the knife 
tew turn up on its back, an’ then, the current catchin’ 
it more, it went slidin’ daown over a little slant intew 
a pool, clean bey on’ my reach with anything I c’d get. 

“ That purty nigh obfusticated me. I jest laid 
daown on my back an’ thought fur a while, but I 
couldn’t see any way aout uv the diffikilty. It wa’n’t 
much use tew holler, fur it wuz miles from any haouse 
or road, but I concluded tew try it anyhaow, an’ I 
yelled till I wuz hoarse; but nobody come. For the 
same reason it wa’n’t much use tew fire off my gun, 
an’, added tew that, my ammunition wuz gettin’ scarce. 
That wuz one uv the things I wuz goin’ tew Lexington 
fur. I didn’t know haow soon some critter might 
come that way an’ take a notion tew have some 
Greenes fur his supper. More’n likely the painter’s 
mate ’d be raound, lookin’ fur it afore the night wuz 
over, so I needed tew save my paowder. 

“ Waal, it wuz a purty serious state uv affairs fur 
me as evenin’ drew on. I didn’t hev more’n enough 
grub fur an or’nary lunch, so resolved to eke it aout as 
long as possible, an’ I et but a few bites uv it fur sup- 
per. Fort’nately the crick wuz in reach, an’ I c’d 
scoop up all the water in my cap that I wanted fur 


Sim Greene. 


37 


drinkin’. If that hadn’t been so, I’d ’ave suffered a 
heap more’n I did in the hours that followed, an’ mebbe 
wouldn’t ’ave been hyar tew tell abaout it. 

“ While I wuz turnin’ the matter over in my mind, 
it occurred tew me that mebbe I c’d burn the piece uv 
timber in two, an’ be able tew handle it that way. It 
’d be a good thing tew hev a fire at night anyways, tew 
scare the varmints away. I wuz nigh the butt end uv 
the stick an’ it wuz abaout a foot thick thar. Ther’ 
wuz consid’able uv the shattered wood in reach, an’ an 
open space under the stick jest tew the one side uv me. 
I had my flint an’ steel an’ some tinder in the buzzum 
uv my shirt, an’ I soon had a blaze goin’. I didn’t 
sleep any that night, but kep’ the fire goin’ under the 
log. It didn’t .make much impression on the green 
wood, but had et intew it several inches by mornin’. 
When it ’d begin tew bum along the log or the root 
towards my laig, I’d throw water on that part an’ 
check it. 

“ I got through the night withaout anything serious 
happenin’. A number uv times critters come sneakin’ 
and snuffin’ abaout, but I scared ’em away with fire- 
brands. I had never seen wolves in them parts, or 
would ’ave been more oneasy, for they’ll skulk araound 
fur days if there’s any chance uv gettin’ a feller at a 
disadvantage. An’ I didn’t see any other painter. 

“ By mornin’ the fire had got the stick purty well 
dried aout, an’ it burned faster, but naow the wood to 
keep the fire goin’ was gettin’ scarce, an’ I had to be 
careful in the burnin’ uv it, I et up the last uv my 
grub that mornin’, an’ still wuz as hungry as a bear in 
spring. I saw a number uv squirrels on trees raound 
abaout, an’ could ’ave shot some uv ’em, but as they 


38 


Sim Greene. 


wouldn’t fall in reach uv me, it ’d be no use. I did 
take a shot at two or three uv ’em, in hopes they might 
flop araound where I c’d get ’em, but they all stayed 
aout uv my reach. Then I thought I might chance 
few take a bird on the wing right over me, an’ laid 
daown on my back fur the purpose. 

“ While I wuz a-layin’ thar I see a speck ’way up in 
the sky, an’ it wuz slowly sailin’ raound in a circle. 
While I watched it, it begun tew get bigger, an’ then I 
see another, an’ soon another, an’ another. I knowed 
they wuz buzzards. It’s s’prisin’ the way them birds 
can find carrion. I don’t purtend tew know whether 
they smell it or see it, but they can diskiver it miles 
away. It wuz not long afore they wuz circlin’ abaout 
the tree tops, but they seemed shy abaout cornin’ so 
dost tew me as they’d hev tew if they’d get a feast on 
that dead painter. It wuz him they wuz after then, 
but I begun tew think it ’d be my turn tew feed ’em 
next, an’ probably they thought so tew. Before dark 
ther’ wuz dozens uv them thar. 

“ Towards night a wind sprung up an’ it soon 
fetched daown a limb uv the broken tree that had been 
hangin’ on another tree ever since the lightnin’ struck 
it. That purty nigh wuz the end uv me, fur it hit 
right beside me. But it give me some more fuel fur 
my fire, an’ with hard tuggin’ I got it pulled raound 
so as tew get the butt uv it under the stick where the 
fire wuz, an’ kep’ pushin’ it in all night as it burned. 
By mornin’ the stick wuz more’n half burnt through. 

“ That wuz a long an’ awful night tew me. I wuz 
afeard tew go tew sleep, but wuz dreadful sleepy. I 
guess, though, the hungry pain in my stummick would 
’ave kep’ me awake even if I’d dared tew try. While 


Sim Greene. 


39 


I laid thar I done some prayin’, tew, an’ made some 
promises tew the Good Man that mebbe I hevn’t always 
kep’ jest as I oughter, if He’d get me aout uv that 
trap. I remembered all the mean things I’d ever done, 
an’ I couldn’t get it aout uv my head abaout the many 
animals I’d trapped. It seemed tew me whenever any 
critters kem snoopin’ abaout that night, an’ I’d see their 
eyes a-shinin’ in the dark, that they wuz grinnin’ at me 
’cause I wuz in the same fix I wuz always gettin’ their 
relations in. I’ve never caught an animal in a trap 
since then, an’ had it look at me the way they dew 
when you come on ’em, that I hevn’t thought uv that 
time, an’ kinder felt sneakin’ abaout it. 

“ Waal, the mornin’ finally kem, an’ then the buz- 
zards begun tew venclier towards the painter. Guess 
they wouldn’t ’ave had any trouble in smellin’ it a mile 
by this time. Ther’ must ’ave been dozens uv ’em thar. 
I laid low in hopes they’d come up tew the dead beast, 
fur I’d naow reached the desp’rate p’int that I’d even 
tackle a buzzard fur my breakfast, an’ I hoped tew 
get hold uv one uv them. Purty soon they begun to 
edge up towards the carcass. It wuz a matter uv ten 
or twelve feet from me, an’ it wa’n’t long afore they 
had kem right up an’ begun on it. The first plunk wuz 
made by an old cock at one uv the eyes, an’ it wuz 
stickin’ aout so that he picked it off like a cherry frum 
a tree. Purty soon they wuz hoppin’ abaout, an’ 
squawkin’ an’ scramblin’, an’ tear in’ the flesh uv the 
beast in a way that wuz s’prisin’. 

“ I wuz layin’ low and watchin’ them when, all at 
once, a little critter jumped on the log right over me, 
cornin’ from the other side. I don’t know which uv us 
wuz the most s’prised, but I guess I recovered first, for 


40 


Sim Greene. 


I hit it a hat with my gun, an’ it fell right daown on 
me. It wuz so dost that I couldn’t draw a bead tew 
shoot it. The lick didn’t kill it, but I grabbed it, an’ 
— • whew ! I forgot all abaout the smell uv the carrion 
then. In fact, I didn’t smell much uv anything else 
fur a month or two except skunk ! ” 

Sim ceased here, as if this were the end of his narra- 
tive, and seemed to be lost in deep meditation. No- 
body spoke for a time, but finally Harold asked: 

“ And what next ? What about the skunk ? ” 

“ I et it,” answered Sim, solemnly. Then the 
twinkle came to his eyes, and, with one of his quiet 
chuckles, he continued: 

“ It wa’n’t so bad as you might think. I thought 
at the time it wuz abaout the daintiest bite uv meat I 
ever tasted. I bled it an’ skinned it with a sliver uv 
wood. Hungry as I wuz, I couldn’t quite go it raw, 
but the fire had burned daown tew a bed uv redhot 
ashes, an’ I soon had it done tew a turn in them.” 

“ But, didn’t it taste — strong ? ” I inquired. 

“ No, I didn’t notice it. Fact wuz the smell raound 
thar wuz so vig’rous that you c’d taste it in the atmus- 
vere, an’ if the meat had any uv the flavor, I didn’t 
notice it. It wuz a change from the odor uv the dead 
painter, anyhow, an’ that wuz some relief. But I 
didn’t hanker after buzzard any more. 

“ Waal, I begun tew settle daown tew the belief that 
I would hev tew pass another night thar. I had 
burned up all my wood, an’ the stick wuz only burned 
a little more than half through. While I wuz layin’ 
there, meditatin’, I thought I heard someone holler 
away off. I pricked up my ears to listen, but the buz- 
zards begun a- janglin’ jest then, an’ I c’d hear nothin’ 


Sim Greene. 


41 


but them. So I fired off my gun. Soon I beard a 
shot at some distance, as if in reply, an’ then I yelled 
like an Injun. Purty soon I heard someone cornin’, 
an’ then Jim Burns’s v’ice callin’ : ‘ Is that you, Sim? ’ 
I yelled back that it wuz, an’ then jest broke daown an’ 
blubbered. 

“ Waal, ther’ ain’t much more tew tell. Jim wuz 
consid’able gumfoozled when he faound what a fix I 
wuz in. He held his nose while I told him abaout it 
in a few words. He then got my hatchet an’ begun on 
the stick whar it wuz partly burnt through. While he 
chopped he told me that he took a notion the mornin’ 
after I left that he’d go tew Lexington tew. He wuz 
s’prised when he got there tew find that I’d not been 
seen in the place, an’ when he stayed over night an’ I 
still did not appear, he concluded tew start aout on the 
hunt uv me. He struck fur the hills whar I had told 
him I wuz goin’ tew look abaout, an’ I hev told you 
haow he faound me. He soon got the stick chopped 
through, an’ then got a big sliver uv the wood, near by, 
an’ made a lever uv that, with which he lifted the butt 
end up so I c’d slip my foot aout. My ankle wuz 
somewhat sore an’ stiff, but I wuz able to foot it with 
him tew the taown. 

“ An’ naow it’s time fur everybody tew turn in.” 


CHAPTEE V. 

A NIGHT AT BONNET^. 


T HAT niglit and the succeeding few days passed 
without special incident The trip up the 
Sideling Hill afforded some exciting experi- 
ences, for the road was scarcely more than a mere trail. 
Sometimes it led along the edge of a precipice where 
a single misstep would have sent the horse and its bur- 
den tumbling hundreds of feet down the mountainside. 
Then again the track would be so narrow that the cov- 
ered wagons found difficulty in getting through. At 
intervals the trail was so worn away that, to prevent 
the wagons from toppling over, ropes were fastened to 
the top of the load; then the men, holding the ropes, 
walked along the hillside above the road. Only one 
wagon at a time could be taken past such a place, and 
this made the progress very slow, so that hut a few 
miles were gained in a day. 

It was surprising the number of travelers that were 
seen on this road in that early day. We continued to 
meet parties with pack-horses, going east to trade, and 
from time to tim£ were overtaken by some of these, re- 
turning to their homes. I particularly noted the move- 
ment of emigrants hound on just such expeditions as 
ours. Sometimes even our slow progress would bring 
us up to such a party, delayed by a breakdown or other 
impeding occurrence. Whenever we could do anything 
to help such, it was always cheerfully done. A spirit 
42 


Sim Greene. 


43 


of mutual helpfulness pervaded nearly all who thus 
traveled, for none knew how soon he would be the one 
needing help. 

We had one most interesting experience on this trip 
over the mountains which should not be omitted. I 
have already spoken of the fact that squirrels were fre- 
quently seen, but they were just the ordinary inhab- 
itants of the mountain forest One day we noticed 
that they were becoming much more numerous, and 
soon we were in the midst of a multitude of squirrels 
the like of which I never saw before, nor have seen 
since. They were chiefly gray and black squirrels, and 
were hopping over the ground and leaping amid the 
branches of the trees in perfect swarms. In a few 
minutes we killed enough to provide us with meat for 
days. We could have slaughtered them by the hun- 
dreds, had we been minded to engage in wanton de- 
struction of life, or had no regard for our ammunition, 
the scarcity of which on the western border at that time 
made it important to husband it. 

For nearly a whole day we were passing through the 
zone covered by the squirrels. They were migrating 
eastward, for, as we afterwards learned, there was that 
season a great scarcity of nuts and acorns on the west- 
ern slope of the Alleghany mountains and the ridges 
and open country westward for many miles. This was 
due, probably, to the drought which had prevailed in 
those sections nearly all the summer. 

“ We’ll hev a hard winter,” was Sim’s comment on 
the phenomenon. Whether it was merely a coincidence 
or not I know not, but certain it is that the winter 
which followed was an unusually severe one. And I 
learned afterwards that the squirrels that fall swarmed 


44 


Sim Greene. 


down on the farming sections in the Cumberland valley 
and other regions east of the mountains in such num- 
bers that they became a nuisance, and organized efforts 
had to be made by the inhabitants to reduce their num- 
bers. 

We crossed a branch of the Juniata river by fording, 
for there were few ferries and no bridges on that road 
in those days, and tarried for a short while at Bedford. 
It was a mere hamlet then, but ranked as one of the 
most important settlements between the Susquehanna 
and the Monongahela. Leaving there, we pushed on 
and made our stop for the night at Bonnet’s, a famous 
old tavern, four miles west of Bedford. Here the road 
branched, the Forbes road proceeding by way of Li- 
gonier and Greensburg to Pittsburgh, while the Glade 
road went to the “ Forks of Youghiogheny,” as the part 
of the country was called which lay between the stream 
named and the Monongahela, into which it flows. That 
section was our destination, and it was the Glade road 
that we took the next morning. 

Usually we made our night stops at houses, to allow 
the women the best opportunities for rest. But since 
we had been among the mountains this plan could not 
always be followed. The women enjoyed Bonnet’s the 
more because the last three or four nights had been 
spent in camp. Travelers, bound east and west, were 
found there in considerable numbers. In the crowded 
condition of the place, only the women could be given 
beds indoors. The men took their blankets to the hay- 
lofts in the barn, or out under the stars. 

We had a jolly time that night. Some of our party 
found friends of former years, and in such a gathering 
it is not hard to form new friendships. There was 


Sim Greene. 


45 


much to talk about, for we were eager to push our in- 
quiries concerning the land of promise that we were 
now approaching, while others who had been living in 
it desired to hear of friends and conditions in the East. 
Events of the time were discussed and stories were told 
in the glow of the big wood fire which the cool nights 
of the season and the altitude made necessary for our 
comfort. 

Somebody found a fiddle and a player for it, and we 
of the younger set soon had a dance in progress, in 
which some of the older ones were fain to join before 
it had continued long. The dance then, in this coun- 
try, at least, did not partake of that character which 
has since led it to be denominated by some “ hugging 
set to music.” Nearly everybody danced, the sedate 
elder of the church often leading off at the opening. 
The favorite, and indeed almost the only form known, 
was the old-fashioned contra-dance, or “ country 
dance,” as they usually called it. It was something 
like the minuet, though rather more strenuous and not 
so formal. For many years I have not danced, partly 
because my church has set the seal of its disapproval on 
the amusement, and partly because it has always seemed 
to me peculiarly unbecoming for the old to go capering 
about thus. But I confess that to this day the sound 
of lively music sets my old feet to marking the time, 
and the mere recollection of that night at the old tavern 
in the mountains brings a quickening of the pulses and 
a thrill of the feelings which vividly recall the long 
vanished youth. 

The Colling girls joined heartily in the festivities, 
Mary in her quiet, gracious way and Mabel with all the 
exuberance of her youthful spirits. The elder girl ac- 


46 


Sim Greene. 


cepted my invitation to be my partner for the first 
dance, and we stood facing one another at one end of 
the parallel rows. Her little sister stood next, and her 
partner, by my side, was a lank youth over six feet in 
height. By the time the music began the two rows 
were nearly the length of the room. As head of the 
gentlemen’s row, it became my part to open the dance, 
and I advanced down between the lines to meet a short, 
fat dumpling of a girl with freckles, on her nose, who 
occupied the foot of the ladies’ row. We bowed, re- 
tired, advanced again, bowed, joined hands and swung, 
and then retreated to our places, keeping time in step 
to the lively music meanwhile. 

Then my fair partner advanced down the center to 
meet the gentleman from the foot of the line for a like 
performance, and I am sure everybody else, as did I, 
noted the ease and grace of her movements, as, with 
erect carriage, she daintily tripped through the pretty 
figures of the dance. How we went together down to 
the foot, between the lines, and her soft little hand, 
lying lightly in mine, gave me a thrill I can feel yet. 
There we swung and then started back along the two 
lines, the gentlemen successively swinging her, while 
I swung in turn the ladies, right and left hand to them 
alternately, until we reached our places again. Swing- 
ing again, we started once more down the lines, this 
time under the arched way made by the partners join- 
ing hands over our heads. To form their particular 
arch, Mabel had to stand on her tip-toes, while her part- 
ner had to make a bow of his back and stoop his long 
body. Mary and I took our places at the foot of the 
lines, and that completed the figure. 

How it was Mabel’s partner who came down the 


Sim Greene. 


47 


center and was met by Mary. He was very awkward, 
and it was only her agile movements that saved her toes 
from being trodden a number of times; but she was 
her sweet, gracious self to him, as to all others. When 
Mabel and her partner danced together down between 
the lines, the real fun began. Here he not only had 
to bow his back to acquire the requisite degree of short- 
ness, but to assume a half-squatting attitude by bend- 
ing his knees, and in that constrained position his 
movements, never graceful, took the semblance of the 
hopping of a great frog. The mischievous little minx 
who was dancing with him by her capers made the per- 
formance all the more ridiculous, and the other dancers 
and spectators fairly shouted with laughter. But the 
young fellow was good-natured, and took it all in good 
part. 

Thus the merry-making went on for a considerable 
time. As I looked into the face of my partner, her 
color heightened by the exercise and her eyes having an 
added brightness, I thought her beautiful, whatever 
others might think. Mabel was bubbling over with 
animal spirits which could not be content with stand- 
ing still while others went through the figures. Every 
little while she would pirouette along behind the ladies’ 
row, in a little independent movement of her own, or 
execute a little jig where she stood, and get from her 
sister a look of mild reproof which she pretended not to 
see. All this time Harold was standing among the 
spectators, and rather in the background, watching the 
dancers. Though urged to take part, the bashful boy 
could not bring himself to undertake in such company 
something he had never tried before, for fear of the 
ridicule that he imagined might follow his failure. 


48 


Sim Greene. 


After the dance had continued until the fiddler be- 
came tired and quit for a rest., somebody from the west- 
ern country, who knew Sim, proposed that he should 
sing, and the motion was seconded from all sides. This 
was the first intimation we had that he possessed that 
accomplishment, and we joined heartily in the request. 
After some urging, he took the violin, and when he had 
held it to his ear and executed a soft pizzicato , while he 
turned the keys forward or backward to get the strings 
in proper tune, he struck up “ The Darbytown Ram.” 
The song was one which was sung much in camp by 
the soldiers of the war for independence. There were 
varying versions of it, taken on as it passed from mouth 
to mouth, for I doubt if it had ever been written out 
then. I am told that later versions are not such as 
polite ears should hear, but Sim sang it as it is given 
below, and this was probably one of its earliest versions. 

It is related of the great Washington that once he so 
far unbent from his proverbial dignity as to sing this 
song as his contribution to the festivities of a lively 
gathering of which he was a member. The tune, with 
its rather spirited movement and peculiar suggestion 
of the minor in its closing cadence (the mind involun- 
tarily supplying the harmony) would get hold on one, 
notwithstanding its monotony, and I found myself hum- 
ming it for days after hearing Sim sing it. Divested 
of his Yankee twang and pronunciation, here is the way 
it went : 


Sim Greene. 


49 



1. Oh, I went down to Darbytown,’Twas on a market day, 

2. His horns they grew so very long, And had so many a bend. 



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1 FH 

M 1 

‘I « "1 h 

IT 


IT ^ 




j IS 

5- i } 


f p ■ - J 9 

* 9 « 0 

11 

V 

1 t' 


r" ' 9 

LI uj 


#^l J 


And there I saw the queerest ram That ever swallowed hay. 
That if I’d sing them clean around This song would never end. 


Oh, I went down to Darbytown, 
? Twas on a market day, 

And there I saw the queerest ram 
That ever swallowed hay. 

His horns they grew so very long, 
And had so many a bend, 

That if Fd sing them clean around. 
This song would never end. 

His tail it grew so very long, 

It trailed upon the ground; 

I’m sure it weighed a hundred if 
It weighed a single pound. 

The wool that grew upon his back, 
It was so very high, 

The eagles built their nests in it, — 
I heard their young ones cry. 

His baah it was so very loud, 

The folks declare and say 

The people heard it all around, 

Full twenty miles away. 


4 


50 


Sim Greene. 


One day he took a tantrum and 
He charged about the town; 

He butted in the meeting-house 
And knocked the steeple down. 

And when they killed this mighty ram, 

His fleece it filled a barn, — 

Took all the women in Darbytown 
A year to spin the yarn. 

His bones they filled an acre lot, 

When spread upon the ground, 

And Darbytown had mutton-chops 
Till months had rolled around. 

There was more of it, but this is all I can remember. 
After he had started on it, the hunter seemed lost to all 
around him. lie hugged the violin up close to him and 
caressed it with his chin. Occasionally by way of vari- 
ety, he would throw in an interlude between the stan- 
zas, but it also was a vocal as well as instrumental per- 
formance, the words being: 

Oh, dinkty, dinkty didydo, 

Oh, dinkty, dinkty day, 

It surely was the queerest ram 
That ever swallowed hay. 

The tune of this was the same as above given, and 
there was no stop from the beginning to the end of the 
performance. Loud applause followed its conclusion, 
and he was urged to sing another song, which he did 
this time without any coaxing. Sim was really a good 
player on the violin, and he loved the instrument with 
an ardor amounting to a passion. He had a fair voice, 
of a timbre something like the middle tones of the vio- 


Sim Greene. 


51 


lin, and, aside from its slight nasal twang, not un- 
musical. His next song was “ Yankee Doodle,” then 
immensely popular. I can recall at this moment only 
the first four lines of it : 

Father and I went down to camp, 

Along with Captain Gooding, 

And there we saw the men and boys 
As thick as hasty pudding. 

As it progressed the tempo became faster, and 
soon the feet of all present were beating time to the 
lively strain. After finishing the song Sim continued 
to play the tune, and by a trick of the old fiddlers, he 
produced the effect of doubling the motion without 
really increasing the tempo, by rendering it all in six- 
teenth notes, instead of eighths and quarters, as it 
would be written, with a rippling little run at the end 
of each period. The result was infectious, and the pat- 
tering of feet in marking time was changed to a shuffle. 

Suddenly Mabel went whirling away, spinning on 
her toes in time with the pulsations of the air, her 
bared arms and hands above her head in graceful mo- 
tions, her golden hair flying with rippling sheen be- 
hind and her lithe young body swaying to and fro like 
a wand of willow. Anon she would execute a little jig, 
and then go whirling about, the room again. Her sister 
sought to catch her, hut she evaded her grasp repeat- 
edly, and the rest of the company gave way to make 
room for her evolutions, applauding heartily the while. 
I caught sight of Harold, gazing in undisguised admi- 
ration at the sight. It was all over in a minute or two, 
and the little mischief threw herself, panting, in the 
arms of her sister as the music ceased. 


52 Sim Greene. 

“ Mabel, Mabel, how could you do the like ! ” ex- 
claimed her sister. 

“ Now, sister, please don’t scold me ; there’s a dear. 
I just can’t help it. Something in me makes me do it. 
When the sun shines, and the day is warm, and the 
sweet smell of flowers is in the air, and the wind is 
rustling the leaves of the trees, don’t you suppose the 
birds just have to sing? When I hear lively music I 
just have to dance, unless it stops pretty soon. I’m 
sorry to worry you, sweet sister,” and by this time there 
was a tear in each beautiful blue eye. 

But the next moment the impulsive young creature 
had thrown herself from her sister’s arms, after giving 
her a resounding kiss on the cheek, and ran to Sim to 
thank him for the tune. Soon after that the company 
broke up for the night. As Mabel passed Harold I 
heard her say to him: 

“ I think it was not nice of you to stand back among 
the old people. You might have come and asked me 
to dance with you.” 

“ Why — but — you know,” stammered the bashful 
fellow, now embarrassed and flushing to the roots of 
his hair, “ I don’t know how to dance, and would have 
been in your way.” 

“ Oh, of course, I got along all right I love to 
dance with a gentleman who is like a beanpole.” And 
with a toss of her golden head, she was off. 

I knew by the way Harold rolled about in the hay- 
loft next to me for a good part of the night that he was 
not feeling particularly happy. 


CHAPTER VI. 


A FIERY VISITATION. 

T HE next morning we were up betimes and off 
from Bonnet’s, parting with regret from many 
of the friends made the night before. Wo 
were soon ascending the main ridge of the Alleghanies, 
but it did not seem to be as much of a climb as some 
of the other ridges already passed. This was partly 
because we were already on high ground before start- 
ing up the actual mountain, and partly because the 
ascent in this case was so gradual, being along the side 
of a mountain called the Dry Ridge for about twelve 
miles. 

The summit was reached in time for us to make our 
noon stop there, and the prospect that stretched before 
us toward the west was magnificent. On the horizon 
lay Laurel Ridge, having in a marked degree the 
smooth and even aspect to which I have referred. The 
intervening strip of country, about eighteen miles wide, 
was a high and dry section, known as The Glades. It 
was covered with a thick growth of timber, among 
which we found the chestnut to predominate. As we 
passed through it, we saw some trees of enormous size. 

But what we noted particularly was the changed 
aspect of the country, as compared with that through 
which we had been traveling ever since entering the 
mountains. We had, indeed, seen evidences of it in 
the past few hours, while ascending the eastern slope 
53 


54 


Sim Greene. 


of the mountain, but now it suddenly burst upon us, 
and we got a fuller realization of the effects of the 
drought of which we had been hearing. 

The leaves on the trees were dried and shriveled, and 
many of them had fallen off. The frost, which comes 
early in this altitude, had added its touch, hut it did 
not paint with such brilliant coloring as it does when it 
catches the leaves in the full performance of their 
function. The subdued tints predominated — the 
browns, the dull reds and yellows — yet here and there 
was a dash of brighter color, giving animation to the 
scene. And the shapes of the treetops, as we looked 
down upon and over them, had the semblance of domes 
and spires, towers and gables, so that it was easy to 
imagine a great city spread before us, or the gigantic 
picture of one, painted by a master hand. And is not 
such a scene really a picture from the hand of the great 
Master Painter, and in it does He not speak as truly 
and as plainly as from the printed page of His inspired 
word ? 

The descent of the western slope of the mountain 
ridge is not abrupt, and we made fair progress through 
The Glades that afternoon, the chief hindrance being 
the badly cut up road. Nothing of special importance 
occurred, and we made our camp for the night by the 
side of a stream which ordinarily was of considerable 
volume, but now showed only a succession of pools and 
a little thread of water trickling over the stones. By 
Sim’s advice we made the night stop there, pitching the 
camp somewhat earlier than usual. We might have 
pushed on some miles farther, but he was afraid we 
should not find water. 

“ I don’t like it overly well hyar,” he said. u If 


Sim Greene. 55 

fire sh’d get a start among this brush it ’d go like a herd 
uv scared deer.” 

He cautioned everybody to use the utmost care to 
prevent the spread of fire from our camp. And the 
need of the caution was apparent. We were in the 
midst of a district which some years before had been 
burned over by an unusually destructive forest fire. 
This had cleared the ground of all underbrush and 
deadened nearly all the trees. But from the roots had 
sprung a new growth, and over the whole extent of the 
district, covering several square miles, were these bushy 
clumps, densely covered with the now dried leaves, and 
the ground strewn with those which had been cast. In 
addition to this there was a rank growth of tall weeds 
which were particularly dense and high along the brook 
and for some distance on either side of it. These were 
now dead and dry, and the whole was like one vast 
tinder-box. 

Under Sim’s direction the weeds were cut for some 
distance around the spot where our camp was pitched, 
and were thrown back, to avoid the danger from sparks. 
The fire was made on a bare spot near the roadside, and 
soon our camp was made ready. The night was a beau- 
tiful one, a full moon from a cloudless sky giving al- 
most the light of day. A little rise in the ground at 
our back protected us from the edge of a cool breeze 
which blew down from the mountains. 

After supper we gathered about the fire for the usual 
nightly talk, and it soon led around to a good pretext for 
drawing a story out of Sim — something we were never 
slow to avail ourselves of. He was in the midst of one 
of his most interesting war reminiscences, and we were 
giving rapt attention to it, when suddenly he stopped, 


56 


Sim Greene. 


jumped to his feet, looked to the eastward a moment 
and listened, and then dashed away to the top of the 
little bluff behind us. As we stood, listening intently, 
we became aware of a dull roar which seemed to pro- 
ceed from that direction. Sim soon came back on a 
run, shouting his instructions as he came. The brush 
was on fire back towards the foot of the mountain, and 
the wall of flame was traveling towards us with the 
speed of a racehorse. There was not a moment to lose, 
and we all quickly realized it. 

By Sim’s directions, attention was first given to the 
horses and cattle. All were securely tied, and the 
horses were blinded by having grain sacks or garments 
tied over their eyes. They were placed right on the 
edge of the stream, and when the best that could be was 
done for them, they were left to their own devices, 
while other work of preparation went speedily forward 
for best securing the safety of the camp and its other 
occupants in the brief time that would elapse ere the 
fire would be upon us. Water was carried from the 
pool scooped out in the little stream where the road 
forded it, and was thrown over the ground where it had 
been cleared of weeds, and somewhat beyond that limit. 
It was also dashed over the canvas tops of the wagons, 
and the vehicles were drawn down into the stream and 
the women and children put into them. All were in- 
structed to wet their handkerchiefs and bind them over 
their mouths and nostrils when the fire should draw 
near, the men to throw themselves on their faces, near 
the brook, and remain thus until it should pass. 

And now began to arrive the advance guard of the 
coming terror. The fire had begun some distance back 
among the mountains, we never knew just how. It 


Sim Greene. 


57 


may have been from the carelessness of hunters or trav- 
elers in leaving a camp-fire unextinguished, to spread 
after their departure, or from the dropping of a spark 
by some man lighting his pipe; from a smouldering 
gun-wad, or one of half a dozen other causes. Its 
progress at first had not been so rapid, but animals in 
its path had been driven down off the mountain. It 
had widened as it journeyed, and when the burnt clear- 
ing in the midst of which we were encamped was 
reached, it spread over its whole extent. Here the dry 
weeds greatly accelerated its speed, and the breeze from 
the mountains, having free play in the clearing, fanned 
and urged the fire into a speed that was well nigh in- 
credible. 

First a few hares and other small animals, scared by 
the unwonted noises, dashed by us. Then came foxes, 
raccoons and other denizens of our neighborhood. Soon 
there came the most remarkable collection of animals 
I have ever seen outside of a menagerie. And each, 
intent on its own safety, forgot for a time its common 
habits of fear, of caution, or of enmity towards other 
species of living things. A great puma went loping 
along, almost in company with a herd of deer. A big 
black bear lumbered by, and at its heels, side by side, 
were a wildcat and a pretty fawn. Other creatures of 
the forest were seen briefly, but we scarcely had time 
to take note of them as they dashed by us. We were 
busied with preparations for our own safety. Some of 
the scared animals almost dashed into our camp, but 
veered to right or left at sight of our fire. And the 
air was filled with birds, scared from their perches and 
now flying aimlessly about in the night, uttering 
strange, wild cries. 


58 


Sim Greene. 


As may readily be imagined, it was a time of great 
excitement with us. Women, white-faced or sobbing 
hysterically, were looking after their children, who 
were wailing dismally. The men were engaged, al- 
most frantically, in doing the things of which I have 
told. It all took but little more than the time that will 
be consumed in reading about it, when the fire came 
sweeping down upon us. It came with a roar like thun- 
der, and the crackling of the dry stalks was like the 
incessant discharge of small arms, or, as Sim after- 
wards expressed it, “ like the snappin’ uv ten million 
whips.” 

When the wall of flame started down over the little 
knoll behind us, we men threw ourselves on our faces, 
as Sim had directed, with the wet handkerchiefs tied so 
that we could breathe through them, and he then threw 
several pailfuls of water over our animals and over our 
clothing as we lay, giving himself a dash last and drop- 
ping down beside us. The fire had now reached the 
camp, and was checked in that part of its advance, but 
it swept by with a roar on each side of us. There was 
one intense minute when we were almost stifled with 
the hot, smoky air we were compelled to breathe, and 
it seemed as if our flesh were shriveling up. Then, the 
first fierce rush of the flames having passed, the heated 
air ascended, and the cooler air rushed in to take its 
place, having for a little time almost the force of a 
gale. This was a great relief. 

But we found that all danger was not yet past, and 
there was still much to do. Bushes all around us were 
burning, and the heat had in great measure dried up 
the moisture on the weeds about us, so that they were 
breaking into flames. The cover of one of the wagons 


Sim Greene. 


69 


also was smoking ominously. Water was dashed over 
these things, and the fire that was beginning to spread 
in the stubble towards the center of our camp was 
beaten out. 

The danger past, we began to take account of our 
situation, and found that, thanks to the thoroughness 
and promptness of our preparations, but little damage 
had been done. The cattle and horses were found to be 
somewhat singed, hut not burned seriously. In the 
midst of the fire the cows had lowed dolorously and 
made desperate efforts to free themselves, but the 
horses, blinded as they were, had only cowered and 
trembled, emitting terrified snorts at times and plung- 
ing when in the midst of the flames. The women and 
children had been nearly suffocated in the wagons, hut 
sustained no real injury, and everybody else reported 
no damage. Harold had taken his place among the 
men on the ground. 

After this exciting experience, it was long ere the 
camp could settle down to repose. All had to tell of 
their experiences and impressions, and for a time nearly 
all wanted to talk at once, but finally the encampment 
was hushed and there was no further disturbance that 
night. So far as I know, the particular story Sim was 
telling was never concluded. 


CHAPTER VII. 


IN THE NEW HOME. 

I CANNOT record all the sights and incidents of 
that eventful journey. I fear the patience of my 
readers will be well nigh exhausted with the dis- 
cursiveness of my narrative, but since I set myself to 
tell the story the memories of that, time come crowding 
in upon me and I linger lovingly over them, seeming 
to be transported back to that joyous period. Ah! the 
halcyon days of youth, when the heart is light and all 
the future is one bright dream ! And blessed are the 
ministrations of memory, under whose spell we can live 
over again those care-free days, long vanished ! 

We found that the fire had swept over the whole of 
the clearing and was still burning the next morning 
in the woods beyond, though it had well nigh spent its 
force in a rocky region among the foot-hills of the 
Laurel Ridge, where the timber and underbrush were 
scarce. Many of the dead trees left from the previous 
fire were still burning as we passed among them. We 
saw the blackened and distended bodies of some crea- 
tures of the woods, amid the general desolation, but 
most of them, being fleet of foot, had passed from the 
clearing in advance of the fire, and hacl escaped. A 
slight rainfall that afternoon, which we were assured 
was the first in that part of the country for many 
weeks, put an end to the further spread of the fire. 

In the days that followed we passed successively the 
60 


Sim Greene. 


61 


Laurel and Chestnut ridges, with the strip of heavily 
timbered country in the valley between them. From 
the top of the Chestnut Ridge we had our first glimpse 
of the land of promise towards which we were journey- 
ing. The Colling girls, Sim, Harold and I had been 
walking up the mountain in advance of the rest of the 
party, and on account of the necessarily slow progress 
of the animals, we reached the summit some time be- 
fore they came up. Just where the road reached the 
very apex of the ridge there was a little natural clear- 
ing, affording a fine view of the noble expanse of coun- 
try spread out before us to the westward. There was a 
little exclamation of delight from Mabel, but the rest 
of us viewed it in silence, and then she, for a time, was 
hushed into quietness while we all gazed on the en- 
chanting scene. 

Since entering the mountains this was the first time 
we had looked off to the westward from a summit with- 
out beholding another range on the horizon. Here, as 
far as the eye could reach, was spread out beneath and 
beyond us an expanse of rolling country. For the most 
part it wa.s covered with virgin forest, now glorious in 
the tints of autumn. Here and there appeared a patch 
of deadened timber with, mayhap, a thin curl of smoke 
hanging in the air above it, betokening the home of 
some hardy pioneer. Away it stretched until in the 
misty distance it seemed to merge with some clouds 
lying low along the western horizon. Long we stood 
on this farthest rampart of the great Appalachian 
chain, feasting our eyes and feeling the thrilling power 
of the landscape. 

When finally we spoke Sim tried to point out to us 
the spot which he declared marked the hills bordering 


62 


Sim Greene. 


the Monongahela. But it was on the far horizon, and 
we could only discern the general neighborhood in the 
misty distance. Just then Harold spied a squirrel on 
a tree some distance ahead along the road, and he and 
Sim, taking their guns, started off with a view to bag- 
ging it, if possible. Mabel, with an indignant protest 
against killing “ the dear little creature/’ and the dec- 
laration that she was going to “ shoo it away ” before 
they could get a sight on it, started after them. Mary 
and I were left alone together. We seated ourselves on 
the trunk of a fallen tree by the roadside, and for a 
time continued to enjoy the scene in silence. Then 
she spoke: 

“ We are like Moses on the mount, getting a view of 
the promised land.” 

“ But, unlike him, we have permission to go in and 
possess it,” I replied. “ For no voice has forbidden.” 

“ I have been wondering what the new land contains 
for us. There will be, of course, new scenes, new 
faces and new associations. The current of life will 
run in different channels from what it has followed 
before. And I could not help thinking, as I have been 
standing here, that the scene spread before us is like a 
glimpse of life in the future as we picture it when 
young.” She paused and looked again for a time to 
the far west, and then continued: “We stand at the 
entrance upon young manhood and womanhood, and 
from some eminence of mental exaltation, look out upon 
life to come. We see brightness and sunshine, trees, 
flowers, ripe fruits and pleasant paths in the foreground, 
and the mists and clouds only hanging over the far end 
of the journey. And even they are glorified by the 
rays of the descending sun, until they have not only 


Sim Greene. 


63 


silver linings, but outer surfaces of gold. In these 
views we seldom take account of the clouds that hang 
in the nearer sky overhead and are likely to cast their 
shadows on our path long before the end of the journey 
is reached. In our life in the new home I suppose the 
common lot will be ours. There will surely be sun- 
shine, but we can hardly hope to escape some of the 
clouds and shadows.” 

Sweet girl, could she have known then the blackness 
of the clouds which ere long would loom up over her 
path, not only casting shadows upon it but sending 
their thunders to terrorize and their lightnings to blast ! 
What a mercy it is that the future is veiled from us! 
I, too, could I have looked out upon the coming years, 
must have shrunk back from what was written for ful- 
fillment to me. 

I knew Mary was a thoughtful girl, but her speech 
revealed to me something in her I had not known be- 
fore — a depth of feeling, a sympathetic fellowship 
with all animate and inanimate nature, and an acquaint- 
ance with the philosophy of life rare in one of her sex 
and age. And correspondingly I held her in increased 
respect and veneration. Our conversation continued 
for a while longer in the same strain, but was inter- 
rupted by the return of the hunters and their young 
companion. 

“ They didn’t get to kill it, anyhow, and I am glad,” 
exclaimed Mabel, as she ran up and threw herself at 
her sister’s feet. Sim was laughing with his quiet 
chuckle and Harold was plainly vexed. The cavalcade 
drew up at this moment, and then all paused to enjoy 
with us the view presented. 

After the fire our night stops were all made at 


64 


Sim Greene. 


houses. These were not always taverns, but at no 
place were our women ever refused a night’s shelter. 
On the contrary, it was always gladly given, and on 
more than one occasion on that journey the men of the 
house went out with us to share the comforts of the hay- 
lofts, that the women and children of the party might 
have better accommodations within the house. That 
was the hospitality of the time. 

In due time we reached the Youghiogheny river, and 
crossed it by ferry, the first we had seen since leaving 
the Susquehanna. The water was clear and swift mov- 
ing, and impressed me as being possessed of a mischiev- 
ous spirit.* 

The ferryman, Simerall by name, was a loquacious 
Irishman, who kept a tavern on the west bank of the 
river, and he pressed us to stay with him over night. 
He was eloquent in setting forth the advantages of his 
house, which was uninviting enough to view, and en- 
tertained us during the passage across the stream in a 
flat-boat with an account of the tarrying there, in the 
early months of that very year, of General Rufus Put- 
nam and his company of Hew England veterans, with 
their families and others, for two months, while they 
built the ark-like craft which they named the Adventure . 
It was a stout, if not a swift, vessel. Its roof was made 
of heavy plank, to resist the Indian bullets, and in it 
they took passage and floated down the Youghiogheny, 
the Monongahela and the Ohio, to the mouth of the 
Muskingum, where they laid the foundations for the 
city of Marietta, and where soon was established the first 
civil government in the great Northwest Territory. 

* So it has impressed many others, and this doubtless led a 
local poet to bestow on it the appellation by which it is now 
popularly known, “ The Dare-devil Yough.” 


Sim Greene. 


65 


We were interested in the Irishman’s recital, hut out 
plans called for a few more miles travel that day, and we 
pushed on, much to his disgust. At the site of the 
ferry has since grown up the town of West Newton. 

We were now in the Forks of Yough, and our objec- 
tive point for the day was the Black Horse tavern, kept 
by Captain Gabriel Peterson, on the crest of the ridge 
between the rivers, which at this point are hut a few 
miles apart. Captain Peterson was a veteran of the 
Revolution, and he and Sim were fast friends. His 
house was a long, rambling structure of logs, and on a 
post before it was a swinging sign, bearing the painted 
representation of a black horse. He gave us a hearty 
welcome when our cavalcade drew up before his door, 
just before dark. A steaming hot supper was await- 
ing us. 

“ Colonel Bayard told me to he on the lookout for 
ye, and I heard an hour gone that ye were crossing the 
ferry, so I had the wife and the girls bustle about a bit 
and get ye a bite ready,” he explained. 

We were now only about seven miles from our des- 
tination. On the morrow some of the company would 
part. In their new homes they would be separated but 
a few miles, yet it was felt that there would be a break- 
ing up of the little company which for a month had 
been closely associated, and it brought a feeling of sad- 
ness. Warm friendships had been formed which were 
cemented the stronger by the sharing of the common 
experiences of the journey — its hardships and perils, 
along with its more pleasant features. It is ever so.. 
Soldiers who have toiled and fought and suffered to- 
gether in a campaign ever afterwards have a feeling of 
comradeship. I confess that the thought of the mor- 
5 


66 


Sira Greene. 


row brought to me a feeling of depression which the 
reminiscences and humorous sallies of our host and 
Sim, interesting and entertaining as they were, could 
not wholly dispel. 

We were ready for the final stage of the journey 
early the following morning. The Collings took their 
course directly to the Monongahela, which they crossed 
and passed on a few miles to the site of their new home 
in the valley of Mingo creek. Adieus were said and 
promises of seeing one another soon were made, and then 
they were off, with a waving of hands by both parties 
until a turn in the road took them from our view. 
Then the remainder of the company started. We pro- 
ceeded by the ridge road down through the Forks re- 
gion, diagonally towards the Monongahela, some miles 
below. Descending finally a narrow valley, we came 
suddenly, by a turn in the road, out on the level bottom 
lands bordering the river, and here the town of our 
future residence had been started. 

It was only a year old then, and consisted of about a 
score of houses, most of them along the river front, but 
a few along the streets that had been laid out on the 
bottom land. All were built of logs, and some of them 
were not yet completed. By far the most pretentious 
was the home of Colonel Bayard, on the river front. 
It was of two full stories and, unlike any of the others, 
was built of logs which had been hewed. I found, on 
enjoying its hospitality, as I frequently did afterwards, 
that it was furnished very comfortably, and even with 
some elegance. 

Just below it was a large shed in which were built 
keel-boats, flat-boats and the like, the only kinds of 
craft on the river in those days. Next in importance 


Sim Greene. 


67 


architecturally to the Bayard home was the tavern, on 
the main cross street, presided over by a jolly Irish 
Boniface named Clark. It was a long structure of a 
story and a half, and built, like the bam and sheds 
connected with it, of unhewn logs. The Baptists had a 
small church near the river bank. The remaining 
houses of the settlement were the ordinary one-story 
log cabins of the frontier in that day. 

The timber had been cleared from only a part of the 
bottom tract on which the town plot was laid out, and 
a portion of it was under cultivation. The hill back 
of this was covered by a dense forest of noble trees. 
The high, steep, forest-covered hill on the opposite side 
of the river was particularly pretty as I first saw it that 
autumn day in the long ago. It reminded me of some 
of the rich old mgs I have seen, woven with the mar- 
vellous skill of the Far East — of indefinite design, but 
magnificently colored with the dull reds, bronze greens, 
browns and yellows, while a fringe of brilliant red 
was supplied by the growth of sumacs along its base. 

The arrival of such parties was a common occurrence 
in the settlement, though most of them tarried there 
only until they could make their arrangements to take 
passage down the river, so our entree did not occasion 
any special sensation. We found that under the or- 
ders of Colonel Bayard arrangements had been made 
for our comfort. New houses had been put up for the 
three families, and they at once proceeded to take pos- 
session of them. I was assigned to the tavern, for 
the present, and was well satisfied to learn that, since 
the exigencies of the case required that every room 
should have at least two occupants, I was to be quar- 
tered with Sim. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A TRIP TO MINGO. 

T HE evening of our arrival I called to pay my re- 
spects to Colonel Bayard. I had never met 
him, but he had known my father well when 
he was a resident of Philadelphia, and it was through 
that acquaintance that my coming here at this time had 
been brought about. He received me kindly and even 
cordially, as did his charming young wife. Colonel 
Bayard at this time was forty-five years of age. He 
was dark, under the medium height and always clean 
shaven. He was the neatest man as to person and dress 
that I have ever known, and was always kind and cour- 
teous. He dressed in the approved apparel of gentle- 
men of the day — knee breeches, silk hose, shoes with 
silver buckles, and powdered wig. His coat was dark 
blue and of military cut. His waistcoat of figured 
satin and his ruffled shirt, high collar and cravat were 
immaculate. 

I cannot tell how his wife was dressed. I never 
could describe women’s apparel, so will not try. But 
she was a sweet faced little woman, with golden, wavy 
hair, blue eyes and a most winning smile. At this 
time, though married for some years, she had not com- 
pleted her twenty-first year. She and her husband 
were very kind to me in the years that followed, and 
are enshrined in my memory among my dearest friends. 
There was a very pretty little romance connected with 
68 


69 


Sim Greene. 

their meeting and marriage, which my readers are 
entitled to have. 

In the year 1767, while iEneas Mackay, a Scotch- 
man, was stationed at Fort Pitt as commissary of the 
then British military post, there was born to him and 
his wife a daughter whom they called Elizabeth. 
Her early playground was the thick forest about the fort, 
where the city of Pittsburgh now stands. At the 
outbreak of the Revolution her father, who was the 
firm friend of Washington, cast his lot with the patri- 
ots and tendered his services to the loved commander, 
lie was commissioned colonel of the Eighth Pennsyl- 
vania regiment, which was recruited in the western 
counties of the state. In the first winter of the con- 
flict this command marched the length of the state 
and crossed over into Hew Jersey. The colonel left 
his wife and two children at Fort Pitt. The weather 
was of unusual severity, and many of the men died on 
the way or after arriving at their destination, from 
the hardships of that awful march. Among them were 
Colonel Mackay and his lieutenant-colonel. This led 
to the reorganization of the regiment and the appoint- 
ment of a new list of officers. Stephen Bayard of 
Philadelphia was made its major, and subsequently was 
promoted to be lieutenant-colonel. He saw much 
active service and was wounded at Brandywine. 

During the war Colonel Bayard w T as ordered to Fort 
Pitt on an important mission, and there made the ac- 
quaintance of Mrs. Mackay and her young daughter. 
During the remainder of the war he was in the field 
for part of the time and for part of it was stationed 
at the fort, at all times rendering important service to 
his country. At the close of the conflict he was in 


70 


Sim Greene. 


command at Fort Pitt. A tender attachment had 
grown between the gallant soldier and the beautiful 
young girl of the frontier post, and soon after the 
restoration of peace they were married. Colonel 
Bayard became largely interested in business ventures 
and property investments in and about Pittsburgh, and 
after laying out the new town on the Monongahela, 
made that place his home. To this day it proudly 
bears the name of the gentle lady who was his wife. 
The Colonel was a strict Presbyterian, being one of 
the founders of the First Church of Pittsburgh, and 
as my father was a minister of that faith, he took a 
special interest in me and my welfare. 

He talked to me of my parents and of many things 
at Philadelphia. The arrangements for opening my 
school would not be completed for some days, and he 
told me to make such use of my time meanwhile as 
I wished, and to look in on them from time to time. 

On going out the next morning the first thing that 
interested me was the busy scene at the boat shed. 
About a score of men were engaged there in the con- 
struction of the river craft then employed. Half a 
dozen of them, including my late fellow travelers, John 
Harden, Scott and Berringer, were skilled ship car- 
penters, but the remainder were apprentices and day 
laborers. The boats were very interesting to me, be- 
cause they were of entirely different type from those I 
had been used to seeing on the Delaware and Schuylkill 
rivers. 

That day Daniel Colling rode into the village. He 
reported the safe arrival of his party in the Mingo 
creek settlement, and their kind reception by their 
friends there. Both of the girls, he said, w T ere well. 


Sim Greene. 


71 


Preparations were already made for the erection of a 
house for him, and he came to invite his friends and 
recent fellow travelers to its raising two days later. 
Sim, Harold and I accepted, the others being pre- 
vented by the busy time at the boat-yards. 

Before daybreak on the morning indicated we were 
off for the scene of the raising. We walked up the 
river two miles, crossing it at what Sim told us was 
McFarlane’s ferry. The ferryman he introduced to 
us >as John Walker. He was a tall, muscular young 
man of about my age, with dark eyes and bushy hair. 
During the trip across the river he plied us with ques- 
tions about Philadelphia and its region, he having 
come from Jersey two years before with his father’s 
family. 

Leaving the river, we followed the course of a small 
stream for some miles back among the hills. But while 
yet on the bank of the river, Sim pointed out to us 
a two-story building on the hill to our right which he 
told us had been the court-house and jail for some 
years during the Revolution, while that part of 
the country was claimed by and actually was under the 
jurisdiction of Virginia. It was built of logs, the 
second story being reached by an outside stairway. 
Hear it were still standing the whipping-post, pillory 
and stocks, employed in the punishment of offenders 
against the law. 

We were soon in the valley of Peters creek, whose 
course for some distance almost parallels the Mononga- 
hela, but which flows into that river a few miles be- 
low. A short distance over the hill from it we came 
to an affluent of Mingo creek, which discharges its 
waters some miles farther up the river. We passed 


72 


Sim Greene. 


the old Mingo meeting-house, nestled in a glen among 
the hills, and as it will figure with some prominence 
in this narrative later, a brief description of it may 
as well be given now. I have spoken of it as the old 
Mingo meeting-house, but the designation is only to 
distinguish it from the brick structure later erected on 
the same site. The original building was then really 
a new one, having just been completed. It was one 
of the outposts of the aggressive Presbyterianism of that 
early day, whose historic old Redstone Presbytery had 
then had an existence of seven years. 

It was built of logs and was nearly square, about 
fifty feet each way. But there were extensions on 
the north and south sides, five feet deep and nine feet 
in width. The north extension was occupied by the 
pulpit, and the south one was known as the bachelors’ 
alcove. The seats throughout were rough benches, the 
women, girls and young children occupying one side 
of the church and the men and boys the other. The 
bachelors were supposed to congregate in the seats at 
the rear end of the room. The pulpit was consider- 
ably elevated, and the clerk’s desk was on a raised 
platform below and in front of it. There was a door 
at each end of the building, and windows around the 
sides. Rear the church, on the hillside, had just been 
laid out a burying ground. Prom the hillside near 
by there gushed, and still does, a spring of remarkably 
cold and pure water. 

Leaving the church, we soon reached Mr. Colling’s 
place. He had bought a claim, taken out a few years 
before, and part of the farm was cleared and under 
cultivation. The house on it was of the single-room 
log cabin type which, with little variation, was almost 


Sim Greene. 


73 


universally built by the first settlers. To adapt it to 
his use, it was proposed to build another one of the 
same dimensions, in line with it, so that they should 
stand end to end, a few feet apart. Then one common 
roof should extend over both and over the intervening 
open space. This was the first development in type 
of the pioneer houses from the simple one-room cabin 
form. Many houses of that class were seen in the 
western country at the end of the eighteenth century. 
Some of them took that form as a growth, as in the 
case of Mr. Colling’s, and others were built that way 
at the first. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE RAISING AT COLLING's. 

W HEH we approached the house we found a 
large company of men assembled and, early 
astit was, there was a sound of chopping in 
the woods near by, and teams were engaged in hauling 
logs to the site of the new building. Before we quite 
reached the house, Mabel came dashing out to meet 
us, with merry words of greeting. She gave a nod 
to Harold and me, but caught Sim’s hand in both 
of hers and danced around him, to his great glee. 
Mary met us at the door with a smile and words of 
cordial greeting, inviting us in to rest a while after 
our walk of seven or eight miles.. We accepted her 
invitation and followed her into the house. 

Already, under the touch of her deft fingers, the 
cabin had a look of comfort and homelikeness. Stowed 
away somewhere among their belongings, she had 
brought a number of pictures and a quantity of inex- 
pensive but pretty figured stuff. The rough walls had 
been whitewashed, and on them were suspended the 
pictures, while the bed, windows and mantel shelf 
were partly concealed by the drapery, and one could 
not but note the taste displayed in disposing of these 
simple decorations. The puncheon floor was not 
wholly carpetless, as was the general rule in houses of 
this class at the time. A few rugs greatly relieved 
its appearance. 


74 


Sim Greene. 


75 

I ventured to compliment her on the cozy appear- 
ance of the room, and to express surprise that she had 
done so much in so short a time. She blushed slightly 
and smiled in a way that showed she was not dis- 
pleased, as she replied: 

“ Oh, I am not entitled to all the credit, by any 
means. Father did the whitewashing and Mabel was 
very helpful to me in the draping and hanging the 
pictures. And our friends and neighbors here have 
all been more than kind in doing anything or lending 
anything they could.” 

“ Yes,” spoke up Mabel, “ hut Mary was the one 
who planned everything, and the rest of us only did 
what she told us. I think it is just bee-w-tiiul, and so 
is she ! ” 

The elder girl was now blushing a rosy red, and 
putting her hand over Mabel’s mouth, stopped the fur- 
ther singing of her praises, of which her little sister 
never tired. I confess that I heartily agreed in the 
expressed estimate of the work and the worker, but did 
not venture to add to her evident embarrassment by 
saying so. We now excused ourselves, to join the 
party outside and take our part in the work to be done. 

The raising was one of the principal things for the 
gathering of neighbors together in a time when it was 
a common thing thus to assemble for mutual helpful- 
ness. The neighbors aided one another in gathering 
their harvests, in log-rolling, in corn-husking and in 
other activities of the farm, but when a house was to 
be built it was realized that with the great amount of 
heavy work to do, which must he done quickly, it was 
a point of honor for every man who could possibly be 
present, to turn out. It had to he a very good excuse 


76 


Sim Greene. 


that would be accepted for absence on such an occa- 
sion. It seemed to me now that about every man liv- 
ing within miles must have come to Colling’s raising 
and no doubt that was the actual case. 

Everybody seemed to know Sim, and the cordial 
greetings he received from all sides showed that he 
was a general favorite. Soon after our arrival a dele- 
gation came in from what was called the Jersey settle- 
ment, beyond the Monongahela, in a great bend of the 
river. We were pleased to recognize among these men 
most of those whom we had met on the mountains, as 
they were going with their products to the East. They 
had just returned, but hurried over to fulfill their 
promise of helpfulness made to us a few weeks before. 

Gatherings like this were nearly always the occa- 
sions of contests of various kinds, and we found that 
one such was already under way. Eor two days be- 
fore a party of men of the immediate neighborhood had 
been felling trees in the woods near by, to provide logs 
for the new house. These were being hauled in when 
we came on the ground. Benjamin Parkinson had en- 
tered his team of matched blacks against Major James 
McFarlane’s big grays, to determine which could haul 
the greater amount of the timber. The contest was of 
Parkinson’s seeking. His big, sleek, black horses had 
never been beaten in such a contest, and he w T as 
anxious to maintain that distinction over all comers. 
Each side had its partisans among those present, and 
already some small wagers had been laid. 

Neighborhood pride entered somewhat into the con- 
test, each man and team representing a section. Par- 
kinson sentiment predominated among the men who 
lived in the country back from the river, while those 


Sim Greene. 


77 


whose homes were near the stream were nearly all ad- 
herents of McFarlane. Parkinson’s home was nine 
miles back from the river, on the road extending from 
the ferry owned and operated by his brother to Wash- 
ington, while McFarlane had his home with his brother 
at that other ferry where we had crossed the river in 
the early morning. Parkinson’s team was well known, 
while the other one was largely an unknown quantity, 
for McFarlane had bought the horses and brought them 
from the East shortly before, and there had not yet 
been a public exhibition of their powers. 

About the time I heard of the contest Major McFar- 
lane drove up with a long stick. His was indeed a team 
of magnificent horses. They were large, muscular and 
stout legged, well rounded out in flesh, yet not too fat 
for the best service. They were dappled grays, nicely 
matched in color, height and weight, and carried their 
heads proudly on finely arched necks, betokening a 
high spirit, engendered by a long line of careful 
breeding. 

To my eye their driver was even more worthy of 
note by reason of some of the same points which made 
his horses notable. He was thirty-seven years of age, 
above the medium height, broad-shouldered, muscular 
and well knit. Kindly eyes looked out from a bronzed 
face, fringed with hair and beard of brown, slightly in- 
clined to curl. His erect carriage and alert movement 
evidenced military training. Even in his homespuns, 
with sleeves rolled high and shirt turned back until 
throat and breast were bared, he impressed me as be- 
ing every inch a soldier. He had served his country 
well in the Pennsylvania Line, under Washington, at- 
taining the rank of lieutenant, and was now a major 


78 


Sim Greene. 


in the militia, greatly beloved by the men under him, 
and officers associated with him. 

I soon had opportunity of seeing his competitor in 
the contest. Benjamin Parkinson was one year older 
than Major McFarlane. He was a big, burly man 
with red hair and heard, and had the reputation 
through the country of being a noted fighter. I do not 
believe that he was particularly quarrelsome, and I 
never heard of his taking an unfair advantage. But 
in the frequent large gatherings of men, when whisky 
flowed freely, disputes were likely to arise, and Parkin- 
son was known as a man who would “ fight at the drop 
of the hat.” His whole soul was now in this contest, 
and he moved with an alacrity unexpected in a man of 
his bulk. His horses also were worthy competitors of 
the grays. 

But other matters claimed attention besides the log 
hauling contest. Men had to be told off for the vari- 
ous activities of the actual raising. John Hollcroft 
had been designated as carpenter in chief and foreman 
in the direction of the work. Sim had pointed out to 
me his place that morning as we came over, about two 
miles back from the river. He now assumed charge. 
He was a dignified looking man, spare, clean shaven, 
sharp of nose and chin, and with piercing black eyes. 
He was a native of Lancashire, England, and had the 
broad speech of that section to attest it. 

Hollcroft designated David Hamilton, Sim Greene, 
John Gaston and William Miller to be cornermen, 
their duties being the notching and placing of the logs 
as they were delivered to them. Others were assigned 
to be carriers and lifters, splitters of clapboards and 
hewers of puncheons. A young man named Barclay had 


Sim Greene. 


79 


been appointed to keep the record of the hauling con- 
test, but soon tired of it and wanted to engage in an 
exercise more strenuous. Learning that I was a school- 
master and therefore presumably proficient in figures, 
he asked that I be substituted for him. And it was 
pointed out that I was all the more eligible because I 
did not know either of the parties, and therefore would 
not be supposed to have any prejudices. I found that 
I was expected to keep an accurate tally of all the 
logs delivered by each competitor and also a record of 
their several lengths. 

The work now went merrily forward. Gangs of 
men carried the logs to the several sides, where they 
were quickly notched by the cornermen with their 
keen axes, and then lifted successively to their places, 
first one on each end and then one on each side alter- 
nately. The alcove for the chimney gave the struc- 
ture greater complexity while it lasted, and called for 
a reinforcement of the axmen. It was at the end far- 
thest from the old building. It was built of logs 
around an opening left in the wall for some distance 
up, to be filled later with back and jambs of stone. 

As soon as the walls had got well beyond the floor 
line, the laying of sleepers was begun by other work- 
men, and when they were all in place the puncheons 
were laid on them. Other workers were engaged in 
sawing out openings for the door and windows and 
securely pinning the planks in these to form the frames. 
It was surprising to me the progress that was made on 
the building in a few hours, but a great deal can be 
accomplished when there are many workers and system 
is maintained. 

From time to time a jug of whisky and a tin cup 


80 


Sim Greene. 


were passed around and the men all partook. To me 
the wonder now is, as I look back upon that time, that 
all men did not become besotted drunkards, from the 
very general use of whisky and the ease of securing it. 
In that region there was an average of one distillery 
for every four farms. 

It became evident that the house was going to be 
built up to the eaves before the noon hour, and that 
the hauling contest was likely to end at about the same 
time. Interest in this ran high, and with the placing 
of the long eaves-logs which joined the new structure 
to the old, over the open space between, the men ceased 
work and gathered to witness the final efforts in the 
contest. I had been watching the two men and their 
behavior closely. Parkinson had been taking big 
draughts from the jug in the last hour, and had been 
urging his horses to greater efforts than before. Ilis 
face was now flushed and he was sweating profusely. 
The day, which had begun with a sharp, frosty air, had 
now become warm, under the fervid rays of the sun 
from near the zenith, and this made warm work for 
both man and beast. McFarlane seemed cool and col- 
lected. He drank but sparingly, mixing his whisky 
with water. He did not show the feverish haste of his 
competitor, but nevertheless did not lose a moment, 
though he did stop occasionally and allow his horses 
to have a brief breathing spell. 

The men were allowed, under the rules, to take up 
logs wherever they could find them, far and near, the 
results that counted being the number brought in and 
the amount in lineal feet. It was impracticable to 
try to compute more than these easily ascertained to- 
tals. Partisans were in the woods to point out well 


Sim Greene. 


81 


situated logs, to their favorites, so that they need waste 
no time in selecting a load. The time had now come 
when only two logs remained to be hauled in. My 
record showed that each man had brought an equal 
number of logs, but the totals in feet had not been 
added up, and now in the excitement nobody could 
think of taking time for that. 

McFarlane got away towards the woods slightly in 
the lead, and maintained it on the way out, though 
Parkinson whipped up in an endeavor to overhaul him. 
Both having an equal number, it would be a point in 
favor of the man who first delivered his last log. When 
the two teams started for the woods on this last trip 
the whole crowd broke and ran after them. Soon 
friends of the two contestants were perceived standing 
about a stick and shouting for them to come for it, this 
being the one which would give the shortest haul. Mc- 
Farlane was the first to reach it, and everybody ex- 
pected him to hitch to it, but he did not do so. He 
had marked the location of the other log a little far- 
ther away, and without pausing a moment he dashed 
on to it and quickly threw his chain around it. It was 
a longer log than the other by some feet, Parkinson 
reached and hitched to the nearer log at about the same 
time, and not to be outdone in magnanimity by his 
competitor, -held in his horses a few seconds until Mc- 
Farlane^ team came up with his position. At this the 
whole crowd broke into cheers and then all went flying 
back to the house to see the finish. When they reached 
there and looked back the two teams and their drivers 
were clear of the woods, dashing down the slight de- 
clivity and across the open field, side by side. 

And now the excitement rose to a high pitch. The 
6 


82 


Sim Greene. 


horses seemed to partake of the spirit of rivalry, and 
were straining every nerve and muscle to gain the vic- 
tory. On they came plunging, their great hoofs poind- 
ing the earth with thunderous tread, and the logs sway- 
ing and bounding behind them. Now the blacks began 
to lose ground a little, and Parkinson’s whip, whiz- 
zing and hissing through the air, descended in a cruel, 
cutting snap across their backs. They sprang forward 
and gained the lost ground, but again the grays slowly 
forged ahead. McFarlane was giving them rein and 
calling to them from time to time, but not once did he 
use his whip, even in warning. Soon the grays were 
a neck ahead, and, almost at the goal, still increasing 
their lead, until, dashing up to the mark set as the end 
of the race, they finished, a clear length in the lead, 
amid the loud cheers of the spectators. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE HOUSE-WARMING. 

A LL were now intensely interested to know the tab- 
ulated result of the race. The two men had 
delivered the same number of logs, but Mc- 
Farlane was one point ahead by reason of having com- 
pleted his share of the task first; also his team had 
outrun the other in a square race, while drawing a 
heavier load. My tabulation of the results in the mat- 
ter of measurement was soon made, and it showed Mc- 
Farlane to have an excess of but seven feet. Strangely 
enough, that was the exact difference in the lengths of 
the last two logs hauled. Had McFarlane taken the 
nearer and shorter log, as everybody expected him to, 
Parkinson would have beaten him by seven feet in 
total lengths. That, as against first arrival with the 
last log, their numbers being equal, would have afforded 
ground for a hot dispute, the result of which could 
hardly have failed in being a resort to fisticuffs to 
settle it. Parkinson’s well known pugnacity was suffi- 
cient assurance of this, and McFarlane was not the 
man tamely to give up a point like that if he thought 
he was right. 

As it was, Parkinson was // defeated on every side, 
and it was generally agreed that he did not have ground 
for any controversy over the result. That he had so 
nearly won added to his chagrin. He was plainly dis- 
comfited and in no amiable humor. Suddenly it 
83 


84 


Sim Greene. 


struck him to question the figures, and he demanded 
who I was and what assurance there was of the cor- 
rectness of my account. 

“ He’s a friend uv mine,” said Sim quietly but in a 
manner which indicated that this should be taken as an 
answer to both queries. 

“ And how do we know that he is straight ? ” de- 
manded Parkinson, whose ire was rising rapidly. 

“ I’m right hyar to answer fur that,” replied Sim, 
now stepping forward. 

At this Parkinson dashed his hat down to the 
ground, pushed his sleeves up farther and squared him- 
self for the conflict which now seemed inevitable, but 
at this juncture oil was poured on the troubled waters 
from an unexpected source. An old man whom I did 
not know had been very officious all morning in aiding 
me in the measurements. He had really been an an- 
noyance to me, but I did not like to say so. He now 
came forward and said: 

“ The young feller’s all right. I seed ev’ry figger he 
writ, an’ he done the squar’ thing by both on ’em.” 

He was a Parkinson adherent, and on his own mo- 
tion had been keeping check on my figures. This left 
no possible excuse for a fight, and the matter was con- 
sidered settled. 

Major McFarlane behaved judiciously. He did not 
jubilate in his victory, but complimented Parkinson 
on the good performance of his team. The black horses 
were still breathing heavily and were trembling all 
over. They were noble animals, and it is really yet, 
in my mind, an unsettled matter which was the better 
team. I am convinced that the driving had much to 
do with the result, and in that McFarlane clearly 


Sim Greene. 


85 


showed himself the superior. An old stage driver once 
explained to me, when I asked why gray horses were 
so frequently employed on the long coach trips, with 
the statement that a gray coat reflects while a black 
one absorbs the heat. This, he said, enables a gray 
horse to stand more exertion in warm weather than 
one of darker hue without becoming unduly heated. 
Perhaps that had something to do with the result in 
the famous race at Coding’s raising. 

Dinner was now announced, and all adjourned to 
the back of the house where the meal had been spread 
on the ground, under the trees. A number of the neigh- 
bor women were helping the Colling girls. They had 
spread sheets of clean homespun linen in a long row. 
Around this the hungry men gathered, and all became 
quiet while the Rev. David Phillips said grace. I was 
surprised to learn that he was a minister, for he was 
dressed in homespun and had been doing a full share 
all morning in the arduous work of building up the log 
house. To distinguish him from another man of the 
same name in the vicinity, he was known as “ Preach- 
ing David.” He was at this time pastor of the Bap- 
tist church at Peters Creek, where he lived and had a 
farm, and also of the church of that denomination 
at Elizabeth. lie was a Welshman by birth, but had 
fought the battles of his adopted country, holding a 
captain’s commission in the Revolutionary War.* 

The meal was a bounteous one, and as the Codings 
had but just arrived, it was evident that the hospi- 
table neighbors had contributed largely to it as well as 
to the day’s work, for it represented about everything 

* Tli at the martial spirit lived in his descendants is well attested 
by the fact that their number in the Rebellion was sufficient to 
make up a full company, had they all been under one command. 


86 


Sim Greene. 


that the country then produced. “ Hog and hominy ” 
formed one of the principal dishes, but there were 
various game meats and poultry as well. The com- 
mon vegetables were well represented. The wheat bread 
was made from flour not bolted as we now get it, but 
none the worse for that, to my mind, and there were 
johnny-cake and corn pone besides. There were pies 
of various kinds, of course. We did not have tea and 
coffee in this country then, except among the well-to- 
do, and on very special occasions. These men were 
used to the clear water that was served them, many of 
them augmenting it with a little of the liquor poured 
from the jug which from time to time was passed along 
the table. The utmost good cheer prevailed, and jokes 
were bandied about among the men as they ate. 

While the meal progressed Sim, who was by my 
side, pointed out some of the men to me and told me 
their names and some things about them. Some of 
them will figure further in this narrative. Of the 
four cornermen already mentioned, David Hamilton 
was a vigorous specimen of manhood, under thirty 
years of age. John Gaston and William Miller were 
farmers and owners of distilleries in the Peters creek 
valley. John Hamilton was a dignified man of mid- 
dle age, then an officer in the militia and a little later 
colonel of the Mingo regiment, sheriff and finally asso- 
ciate judge of Washington county. 

After the meal, to which ample justice was done by 
the hungry men, we sat about for a time, smoking and 
talking. Some of the boys present, restless at such 
a time, had wrestling matches and foot-races. But this 
had not gone on long until John Hollcroft arose and 
announced that it was time to resume work, when all 


Sim Greene. 


87 


took their places and the operations proceeded where 
they had been left oif. 

The walls at the front and back having been com- 
pleted, joists were laid across, resting on them, and 
then the end walls were carried up. To form the 
gables, each log was cut shorter than the one immedi- 
ately under it, and rested at each end on a pole lying 
across the roof, on which the clapboards would be laid. 
These poles were carried across the space intervening 
between the new building and the old* so that a con- 
tinuous roof would extend over the whole structure. 
In the meantime men were “ chunking ” the spaces 
between the logs and preparing them for the plastering 
of mud to follow. Some were building up the stone 
lining of the fireplace and chimney, and others - were 
making and fitting in the door and windows, the latter, 
for the present, being without glass and having heavy 
wooden shutters. 

The walls and roof-poles being up, the work of put- 
ting on the roof proceeded. The clapboards had been 
split out in the woods the day before, and the teams 
now hauled them in. They were laid in successive 
overlapping courses, beginning at the eaves, and were 
held down by logs placed at proper distances upon 
them. That completed the work for that day, and left 
only some finishing touches to be put on, the following 
day, to prepare it for the house-warming in the even- 
ing. Our little party from the village accepted the 
pressing invitation to stay, and we, with Mr. Colling, 
slept in blankets on the floor of the new house that 
night, with a big wood fire blazing in the wide-mouthed 
fireplace. 

The next day we assisted in the work of daubing the 


88 


Sim Greene. 


chinks between the logs, smoothing the floor, cleaning 
up the premises and making all ready for the event 
of the evening. Long before the time for beginning 
the festivities we had everything in readiness. 

Of course it was understood that everybody was in- 
vited, and it seemed that all within miles must have 
accepted the invitation. They came early — singly, 
by couples, and in companies. There were old, mid- 
dle-aged and young. I noted the stalwart build of the 
youths and the rosy, buxom beauty of the girls, of 
whom there was a great number. 

Soon the dance was in progress in the new apart- 
ment. Sim and a solemn looking young man named 
Lytle scraped away on the violins, and the floor for a 
time was continuously filled with the moving forms of 
the dancers, young and old, for the house-warming was 
regarded as a sort of ceremony in which all present 
must have some part. The favorite and almost only 
dance was the same contra-dance, or Virginia reel, 
which we had enjoyed at Bonnet’s tavern, in the moun- 
tains. But from time to time the decorum of that 
rather formal movement would be interrupted by some 
dancer, or pair of them, who felt moved to execute a 
little jig on their own account. Once or twice the 
whole company on the floor followed some such lead, 
the women shuffling and pattering and the men pound- 
ing the staunch floor until it shook under their feet. 

After a while the elder ones began to leave the mer- 
ry-making, congregating elsewhere to smoke and con- 
verse, and soon the young people were left in possession 
of the room. When they tired of the dancing, games 
were proposed, and a number of these were played with 
all the zest that children give to them, though many 


Sim Greene. 


89 


of the players were full grown men and women. They 
played “ London Bridge ” and other games of that 
kind. One that has clung in my memory through all 
the years, and which I notice the children of this time 
play with some slight alteration, was “ King William.” 
It was sung while they circled abou + the air, sung over 
and over, and the words being: 



/ A 





— 

fi 


i “1 

] 


1 1 1 


-P 

k -Ar A 



A 

—9 ! ■ — 1 A 



' - 9 - 





1. King Wil - liam was King James’s son, And 

2. Down on this car - pet you must kneel, Just 



from the roy - al race he sprung. Go, choose you east, go, 
as the grass grows in the field; Now, kiss your true-love. 



choose you west, Go, choose the one that you love best, 
kiss her sweet, And you may rise up - on your feet. 


While this was not the best of poetry nor of gram- 
mar, it served its purpose in providing the means of a 
great deal of enjoyment to these young people. One 
was put in the middle and the others circled around 
to the singing. He made his choice when so instructed 
in the first stanza, and spread a handkerchief on which 
he and his “ true-love ” knelt. The kiss was then 
given with fervor, and the one who had made choice 
took his place as part of the circle, leaving the girl to 
repeat the performance and make her choice. Some- 
times the girls would make a feint of trying to thwart 



90 


Sim Greene. 


the oscillatory salutation, but the effort was never really 
a stalwart one, and was always in vain. 

This went along all right until big Sam Colvin was 
called into the ring. Of course he chose pretty little 
Dorothy Duncan, as everybody expected him to, for he 
had been “ beauing ” her to all the gatherings for some 
time. Dorothy was a truthful little soul, and when 
commanded to “ choose the one that she loved best,” 
she promptly called Sam into the ring again. Not to 
be outdone, and to avoid any inconsistency after hav- 
ing just declared that he loved her the best, Sam again 
chose Dorothy. This was becoming decidedly monoto- 
nous to the other players, and it looked as if the game 
would either be blocked or move in the very small 
circle of these two for an indefinite time. Loud pro- 
tests were made against this proceeding, and Dorothy 
compromised with her conscience by choosing her 
brother next time. He responded with alacrity, for he 
was longing to kneel with his particular divinity. And 
thus the game went on. After this forfeits were sold, 
and their payment usually involved kisses, though some 
of the young fellows were required to do some most ri- 
diculous things, to the great amusement of the rest of 
the company. 

When the part of the program came which brought 
a change from the dancing to these plays, Mary ex- 
cused herself, on a plea of having to look after matters 
for the further entertainment of her guests. It was 
done so graciously that those around me did not seem 
to think of the act as being due to mixed motives, but 
I felt sure, it was timed for that particular juncture 
by a finesse that I could not but admire. Dor some 
reason it gave me a thrill of pleasure, too, for I do not 


Sim Greene, 


91 


think I could have been comfortable had she remained 
and been a participant in those games. But I re- 
mained, participated and actually got some enjoyment 
out of it. Why is it that we men require of those of 
the other sex in whom we have a particular interest 
that which we do not feel bound to give ourselves ? 
And why does society, in its estimate of the relations 
of the sexes, set one standard for the woman and an- 
other, not so high, for the man? In these, my old 
days, I seem to have more time and inclination to 
think of these things than I did then. 

The festivities continued until Mary came again and 
announced that supper was ready. It was spread on 
improvised tables on the main floor of the barn, and 
consisted of cold meats left from the dinner prepared 
for the raising, bread and butter, pie, and plenty of 
sweet cider. After supper dancing was resumed, and 
it was in the early morning hours that the festivities of 
the house-warming came to an end. 

In the home-going the young people paired off, and 
those from a distance nearly all went on horses well 
accustomed to carrying double. I saw Sam Colvin 
and Dorothy Duncan start. He was mounted astride, 
with a few grain sacks for a saddle, and she sat be- 
hind him, sidewise, on the broad croup of the animal, 
her plump right arm resting confidingly around his 
waist. So it was with many other couples. 

We got a few* hours of sleep in the new room again, 
and returned to the village in the light of the follow- 
ing day. On the way the events of the past two days 
were discussed. I thanked Sim for his prompt ap- 
pearance in my behalf when the integrity of my rec- 
ord of the log hauling contest was in question, at the 


93 


Sim Greene. 


imminent risk of having to take what would come to 
him in a savage personal encounter. 

“ Oh, that’s all right, D'avy.” (He had called me 
thus from the first day of our acquaintance, and I had 
never thought of wanting to resent what in others 
would have appeared as undue familiarity.) “ It did 
look paowerful like a scrimmage fur a bit, didn’t it? 
Parkinson wuz somewhat kerflummixed over gettin’ 
beat the way he wuz, an’ it wuzn’t s’prisin’ that he got 
a leetle rambunctious. But he’s not a bad sort uv a 
feller when you don’t rub ’im the wrong way uv the 
fur.” 

He spoke appreciatively also of Major McFarlane, 
for whom evidently he had high regard. 

As we passed John Hollcroft’s place its owner was 
working by the roadside, and he paused to greet us. 

“ Oh, Aah say-ah, Semeon,” said he, “ thot was a 
grea-at ra-ace. Aah misdoot Ben Parkinson’s not feel- 
ing coomfortubble over its outcoom.” 

“ Waal, I reckon he ain’t feeling pa’tic’larly scrump- 
tious abaout it; but it Wuz a square beat an’ no bam- 
boozlement,” was Sim’s reply, as we passed on. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE NEW BOY'S GAUGE TAKEN. 

M Y school soon began, and for want of a better 
place it was held, at first, in the spacious 
attic of the Bayard home. An outside stair- 
way allowed ingress and egress without annoyance to 
the family. That, of course, was long before the days 
of public schools, and the teacher was supposed to de- 
rive his pay from the parents of the children taught 
by him, taking part of his pay by boarding around 
among them during the term. This latter arrange- 
ment was carried out to some extent in my case, and 
those who were able to pay did so, but none had his 
children debarred because of inability to pay. The 
western country was almost without money, and what 
script was in circulation was greatly depreciated, so 
there was a considerable number who could neither pay 
cash nor could they well afford, in the cramped quarters 
of their cabins, lodging for the schoolmaster. This was 
particularly true of the farming community round 
about, for the boat builders in the village earned wages 
and the tradesmen naturally got a goodly part of this. 

But through the large-heartedness of Colonel Bayard 
all deficiencies were made up. On his owU motion he 
had brought me out and assured me as good support 
as usually came to one in my profession at that time. 
This was always strictly carried out, and, though the 
income was not great, I had a good living and a good 

93 


94 


Sim Greene. 


time, besides being able to save a little to send, from 
time to time, as I bad opportunity, to my aged parents 
in Philadelphia, who needed all the help 1 could give 
them. 

As a matter of fact, in the working out of the plan, 
the greater part of the time I was a lodger with Mine 
Host Clark, and no bill was ever rendered me for this. 
And at times — occasions greatly enjoyed by me — I 
was an inmate of the Bayard home for weeks. 

My school was typical of others of the time. Boys 
and girls were as mischievous then as they are now, and 
I had my trials, my joys and sometimes my personal 
encounters with my pupils. Only the common 
branches were taught, and much stress was laid on 
spelling and writing. The goosequill furnished the 
material for pens, and it was part of the duty of 
the master to fashion these with his penknife (hence the 
name). The competency of the master was meas- 
ured largely by his proficiency in making pens and set- 
ting copy. Ink was made from the bark of trees of the 
forest, and its staying qualities are shown by some of 
the manuscripts preserved from those days, on which 
it still stands out, clear and distinct, while later writ- 
ing has faded away. Ciphering on the slates was done 
with pencils whittled out from soapstone secured at 
the ledge jutting out along the hillside back of the 
village. 

“ Books ! ” called in a loud tone by the master, was 
the signal for the beginning of a school session. A 
paddle was suspended by a tow string just inside the 
door, on one side of which was inscribed the word 
“ in ” and on the other “ out,” and when, by permis- 
sion, a pupil retired from the room in school hours, he 


Sim Greene. 


95 


was required to hang this so that the “ out ” side 
showed, and reverse it on returning. Pupils from a 
distance all brought their lunches, to be eaten at the 
noon hour. There were no mid-session recesses, but 
at the noon hour the pupils played various games. 
Both sexes among the younger ones engaged in “ Pris- 
oners’ base,” “ Pussy wants a comer ” and the like, 
while the larger boys played various hall games, 
“ Shinny ” and other strenuous pastimes dear to the 
heart of youth. 

It was while thus engaged at a noon hour, not long 
after the opening of the school, that an episode oc- 
curred which brought into prominence the character- 
istics of some of my pupils. I was absent from the vi- 
cinity, getting my noon meal, but had the story from 
Colonel Bayard, who was an interested spectator. The 
boys were playing ball, and in running Harold acci- 
dentally came in collision with another hoy of about 
his size and age, named Joe Brown. Both were 
knocked down but got up again, apparently not much 
the worse for the encounter, except that Joe was rub- 
bing his shoulder where it had come in contact with the 
earth. 

“ I wouldn’t take that off him if I was you, Joe! ” 
exclaimed Jim Wherry, a boy considerably older and 
larger than either of the others, and whom I had al- 
ready marked as the bully of the school. 

“ I didn’t go to do it, Joe. I’m soriy I hurt you,” 
said Harold. 

Joe seemed about to be placated by this, and that 
would probably have ended the matter, but Wherry and 
some of the other older boys gathered around and told 
him he was a ninny to take that off anybody, especially 


96 


Sim Greene. 

a stuck-up boy from the city. They would show him, 
if they were he, that hoys out this way would not 
stand for any such treatment, and any fellow that 
bumped another down and hurt him like that had to 
fight. That was the substance of it. 

Young Brown, thus coached, and wishing to appear 
in the estimation of Wherry and his satellites, ready to 
resent all insults, now bristled up and said he was ready 
to fight and Harold would have to. The latter again 
protested that it was an accident and that he was sorry 
for its results, at which Wherry and his crowd began 
jeering him with cries of “ Coward! ” “ Fraidy calf! ” 
and the like. Brown was now prancing about him 
with warlike demonstrations, but still evidently re- 
luctant to strike the first blow, and the taunts of the 
crowd were turned on him. Harold saw that he must 
fight or run, and he would not run. Like thousands 
of other boys who have gone into new places, he had 
to establish his status by a fight, and like so many of 
these encounters, it was brought on by older boys. 

Brown now came rushing at him, but he quickly 
stepped aside, braced his leg in position that the other 
boy tripped over it, and then caught him and threw 
him to the ground, alighting on top of him, where he 
pinioned his arms. 

“ That was a trick, and was no fair fight!” ex- 
claimed Wherry, catching hold of Harold by the shoul- 
der and throwing him over on the ground, so that 
Brown, clinging to him, came up on top. Hot anger 
now for the first time took possession of Harold, and 
he made a desperate struggle with his assailant, soon 
freeing himself from his clutch and giving him a blow 


Sim Greene. 97 

which sent him reeling and with no disposition to re- 
turn to the conflict. 

“ At the beginning of actual hostilities,” said the 
Colonel, in telling me of it afterwards, “ I came from 
the concealment of the house where I had been watch- 
ing the boys, intending to put a stop to the fight, but 
before I got up to them what I have related had been 
quickly enacted. All were too intent on the conflict 
to notice my approach. Young Harden now seemed 
perfectly infuriated, and he had no sooner disposed of 
Brown than he whirled about and planted a blow 
squarely on Wherry’s mouth, following it up with 
others until the bully went down before him. I 
thought things were going about right then, and re- 
frained from intervention for a little time, but when 
the blows continued to rain on Wherry’s face from 
the infuriated boy astride of him and he was roaring 
for mercy, I concluded he had got about enough for 
that time, and pulled Harold off. He was nearly be- 
side himself with rage, and broke loose from me to at- 
tack some of the others who had egged on the fight, but 
they scattered and ran, leaving me alone with the lad. 

“ He seemed now for the first time to realize my 
presence, and a change came quickly over him. All 
vestiges of his wrath disappeared, and when I spoke 
kindly to him he burst out crying. I told him he had 
nothing to cry about, but perhaps it was really a physi- 
cal necessity from the sudden revulsion of feeling. I 
have known full-grown men to do the same under like 
circumstances. 

“ ‘ Auntie doesn’t want me to get in fights, and I 
suppose I should not have got so mad,’ he sobbed. 

“ ‘ Well, in general I do not approve of boys fight- 
7 


98 


Sim Greene. 


ing,’ I replied, ‘ but this seems to have been one of the 
times when there was no help for it. But you must 
learn to control that temper.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, that’s what Aunt Hannah tells me,’ he said. 

“ I helped him to brush the dust from his clothes 
and took him into the house, where he tidied up his 
somewhat disordered appearance. The fact of the 
matter is,” said the Colonel in conclusion, “ the boy 
had not done anything that I particularly disapproved 
of, and I think my impulse would have been to do all 
he did under the same provocation.” 

I have intimated before that this boy was of pe- 
culiar disposition and temperament. He was back- 
ward and would shrink from any assertion of himself 
or his rights, sometimes even to the extent of suffering 
injustice. But on a few occasions, like that witnessed 
by Colonel Bayard, when driven to a corner and his 
temper fully aroused, he hew into an overmastering 
passion. On every such occasion, however, I observed 
that it was quickly followed by a revulsion of feeling, 
and he regretted these excesses of passion and its ex- 
pression. 

There was one unmistakable result of this occur- 
rence, and that was the status of the new boy was 
fixed in the village. He was not a coward, and could 
defend himself when occasion required. These are 
qualities which boys admire in one of their number, 
and from that time he was a favorite among them, even 
with Joe Brown, who became his firm friend. But I do 
not think Jim Wherry ever forgave the humiliation 
put on him and the loss of prestige among his fellows, 
to say nothing of the discolored and swelled face he 
carried around for days afterwards. 


Sim Greene. 


99 


I made it my business to see Hannerybeck and ac- 
quaint her with the exact facts in the case, for fear 
some other story of it should reach her to the boy’s 
prejudice. The honest soul, while deprecating fight- 
ing, expressed her pleasure that her boy had taken 
care of himself so well, and said she “ Towed he 
wouldn’t never do nothing to discredit his birth and 
bringing up.” While somewhat beclouded as to the 
exact effect of all the negatives in that sentence, I felt 
sure of her meaning, and said I hoped so, too. 

Lore, 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE SACRAMENT AT ROUND HILL. 

A FTER the first few weeks my school grew rapidly. 
Children came from miles around, for it was 
then the only school in the vicinity. It soon 
became apparent that a place better adapted for it 
than the Bayard attic, would have to be provided, so 
a house of one room, constructed of logs, was erected 
some distance back from the river. The forest trees 
were growing all around it, and the spot was one de- 
lightfully adapted for the purpose, a crystal spring 
gushing from the hillside near by. Colonel Bayard 
gave the ground, the timber and the use of teams, and 
men of the neighborhood assembled and raised the 
structure in a day, after the manner of the Colling 
house raising. 

Among the new pupils received at the school when 
it had been in operation a few weeks was our young 
friend, Mabel Colling. Her home was not convenient 
to a school, and her father desired that she should at- 
tend mine. One day the family of three came to the 
village to see what arrangement could be made to that 
end. The father and sister were especially solicitous 
that a good home be found for her during the days 
of each week that she would necessarily be in the vil- 
lage, the distance between it and her home being too 
great to be traveled daily. I introduced them to the 
Bayards and asked their counsel in the matter. After 
100 


Sim Greene. 


101 


a consultation the charming young creature so com- 
pletely captured them that they proposed she should 
become an inmate of their home while attending 
school. This was much better than the father and sis- 
ter had hoped for, and was so wholly unexpected that 
at first they were embarrassed by it. They perceived 
the kindness of heart of the Colonel and his wife, but 
did not know them as well as they would later, or they 
would have understood that when the Bayards made 
such a proposal they meant it heartily. This was soon 
borne in on the Codings, and they accepted the offer 
gratefully, the minor details being readily arranged. 

Mabel soon became a great favorite with Colonel 
Bayard. The child was also taken to the motherly 
heart of his wife, where plenty of room was found for 
this new affection, notwithstanding the fact that two 
young children of her own had their places there. The 
arrangement was highly gratifying to me. I liked the 
vivacious child, and had a growing interest in her gen- 
tle sister, in whose companionship I delighted to be. 
After Mabel began attending my school I accepted their 
invitation and sometimes accompanied her home to re- 
main with them over the Sabbath. 

A warm friendship sprang up between Mary Colling 
and Mrs. Bayard, the two being nearly the same age 
and having many tastes and characteristics in common. 
There were not many women of the village with whom 
Mrs. Bayard could, from the nature of things, main- 
tain any great degree of intimacy. Of the best breed- 
ing, and reared in an atmosphere of culture, Elizabeth 
Bayard seemed naturally to belong to another circle. 
Not that she held herself aloof, for her disposition and 
manners were graciousness itself, but there was a 


102 


Sim Greene. 


shrinking on the part of most of her neighbors from a 
familiarity which they felt would not be congenial to 
her. There were a few families of the vicinity with 
whom she was more intimate, but the women of those 
households were older than she. So it came that she 
and Mary, who had much the same experience in her 
own neighborhood, fitted at once into the lives of each 
other, and became fast friends. Mary frequently 
spent days as a guest at the Bayard home, and I was 
made to feel that I was always welcome there. So 
we often met. 

It was in June of the year following our coming 
to the West that Mary and Mabel came down to spend 
a few days with the Bayards before the busy time of 
the harvest. My school was closed for the summer, 
but Colonel Bayard had given me employment, aiding 
him in keeping his accounts and in his large corre- 
spondence. The Codings staid over the Sabbath. It 
was one of Colonel Bayard’s rules that on that sacred 
day every inmate of his household who was able 
should attend divine service. This was to be the oc- 
casion of the spring administration of the sacrament, 
and that made it an especial duty to attend. 

So it came about that on as lovely a day as I ever 
saw we set forth. The Colonel and Mrs. Bayard, with 
the elder of their two children and Mabel, occupied the 
family carriage, the baby having been left with the 
black mammy who had much of its care. The other 
negroes of the household had gone ahead, walking. 
Colonel Bayard was not a slave owner, but in accord- 
ance with the custom of the time, his servants were all 
black people. Mary and I were mounted and rode 
side by side, in advance of the vehicle. She was a fine 


Sim Greene. 


103 


horsewoman and now, modestly attired and sitting 
erect, I thought her trim form had never appeared to 
such advantage. At her own request she had been 
given a spirited horse, and the exercise of controlling 
it brought an added tinge to her cheeks and a light to 
her eyes. Her horse was constantly champing his bit, 
and from time to time would indulge in little curvets. 
He needed only to have been given the rein, when he 
would have dashed away in a lively canter. With the 
infectious spirit of their kind my more sedate mount 
gave indications that he would he ready to follow in 
such event. That would have scandalized the Colonel, 
who never permitted his horses to exceed a dignified 
jog on the Sabbath, and Mary’s sense of the proprie- 
ties also forbade it. But so great was her love of such 
a dash that I feel sure it was a real temptation to her 
to give her horse the rein, and I know that had she 
gone off thus I would have followed at all hazards. 

Our way was up the hollow road, leading back into 
the country from the village — the same road we had 
traversed in coming to the settlement in the first place. 
But it was new to Mary, and she frequently expressed 
her delight in the beauties of the secluded valley. 
The winter had been a long and hard one, as it some- 
times is in this climate, followed by a backward and dis- 
agreeable spring, but now all nature seemed to smile. 
The trees had on their deepest green of the early sum- 
mer, the scent of blossoms was on the air, and over all 
was the Sabbath hush, broken only by the drone of 
bees and the chirping of birds. 

We saw many people on the road, on their way to 
the meeting for which we were bound, and all greeted 
us courteously. Many were on horseback, more were 


104 : 


Sim Greene. 


walking, and none other than the Colonel’s family oc- 
cupied a carriage, for his was the only vehicle in that 
neighborhood, save the rough wagons used for the trans- 
portation of merchandise. Some of the more strict 
of those old Presbyterians looked upon his carriage as 
a vanity, but because of the high regard and respect in 
which he w!as universally held, less was said about it 
than doubtless would otherwise have been heard. 
Many of the girls and women went bare-footed, carry- 
ing their shoes. To further preserve them they tied 
them up in their handkerchiefs. On their arrival at 
the vicinity of the meeting they put on their shoes, and, 
properly shod, went on to the service. 

Round Hill meeting-house, three miles back from 
the Monongahela and about midway between it and the 
Youghiogheny, was reached in due time. Its name 
was due to the contour of the hill on which it stood 
and on which its successor now stands, a conspicuous 
object in an expanse of beautiful rolling country. On 
either side, at a distance of a few miles, the steep 
hills which overlooked the rivers were visible. But the 
scenes nearer at hand engaged our attention, and were 
such as I had never before witnessed. 

The gathering had already attained the proportions 
of a multitude, and more people were pouring in from 
every quarter. On my previous visits the square log 
building on the top of the hill had been amply large 
to contain the people, but now it was evident that it 
would not hold a tithe of those already assembled. On 
these communion occasions people came from twenty 
and even thirty miles around. The services, perforce, 
must be held in the open air, for frequently the gather- 
ings numbered thousands. Por this reason the admin- 


Sim Greene. 


105 


istration of the sacrament was usually in the spring 
and fall of each year, when the weather was pleasant. 
The rude appliances for these open-air gatherings were 
maintained permanently. 

I had on former visits noted these, but this was my 
first view of their use. On one expansive slope of 
the hill the underbrush and all save the largest of the 
trees had been cleared out. At the foot of the slope 
was *the preaching tent, as it was called. A platform 
about six feet wide and ten feet long had been erected, 
about four feet from the ground on the upper side. On 
that side it was boarded up a few feet above the plat- 
form, with an opening left as a doorway. At the back 
and ends it was enclosed higher and was roofed over, 
thus leaving an opening towards the up-sloping hill- 
side in front of it. Just before it, and on a lower 
level, was the stand of the precentor, raised slightly 
above the ground. A deal table, covered by a snowy 
cloth, was in front of this, on which were the elements 
for the eucharist. From that point a long table ex- 
tended straight back up the hillside, which was not 
steep, and a like one proceeded at right angles on each 
side of it, all converging to the common center in front 
of the tent, like the spokes of a wheel. These long 
tables were made of large logs, hewn only on their 
upper sides, and supported by legs of wood. Logs 
laid on the ground parallel with them, on both sides, 
served as seats for the communicants. The tables were 
all covered with clean white linen. Over all the re- 
mainder of the slope, for as great a distance as per- 
sons could well hear, logs were ranged on the ground, 
and on these the people were rapidly seating themselves 
as wo drew near. 


106 


Sim Greene. 


That was the arrangement commonly employed for 
these great outdoor gatherings, and it had much more 
of comfort than belonged to worship in the interior 
of the meeting-houses, especially in the winter ; for at 
that time the making of a fire in the house of worship 
would have been regarded as a sacrilege. Some years 
later, when the first stoves were introduced in the meet- 
ing-houses, it created almost as much commotion as 
did the first use of Dr. Watts’s psalms and hymns, a 
few years before the time of which I am writing. 

The solemn services of the fast-day had been held 
on the preceding Thursday, and a sermon had been 
preached on Saturday. This was now “ the great day 
of the feast,” and the people were duly impressed with 
its solemnity. Two men occupied the tent. One was 
a short, ruddy man, James Finley, the pastor of this 
people and the first minister of the gospel, excepting 
chaplains of the armies, that ever set foot on the coun- 
try west of the mountains. The other was the Rev. 
Joseph Smith, who had ridden many miles from his 
Washington county home, to assist the pastor in this 
service. He was a tall and slender man, of fair com- 
plexion, and with one eye slightly askant. 

When all the space had been filled and some late 
comers were standing around the outskirts, the pastor 
arose, came forward in the tent, and spread his hands 
upward. Immediately all the people stood, and the 
prayer which followed was one of great power and 
solemnity. Then came the psalm — and such sing- 
ing! Surely those worshippers understood in a literal 
sense the words of the Psalmist when he said : “ Let 

the people praise thee, O Lord ; let all the people praise 
thee.” Of course it was all lined out, for there were 


The Sacrament at Round Hill. 










Sim Greene. 


107 


very few psalm-books in the hands of the people. But 
had every hand held one it would still have been 
thought the only right way, because of its sanction by 
usage. There being among his people some on each 
side of the old psalmody controversy, it was Mr. Fin- 
ley’s custom to use first one of the “ old varsion,” as 
it was called, and next one of Dr. Watts’s. That was 
done on this occasion, and the opening psalm was the 
one hundredth, to the tune of “ Old Hundred.” 

The psalm was read through by the minister, and 
the precentor then arose and began lining it out and 
leading in the singing. His voice in its speaking tone 
was rather low pitched, and the effect of his perform- 
ance, had the attendant circumstances not been so sol- 
emn, wpuld have partaken somewhat of the ludicrous. 
Indeed, the first time I heard good old Elder Pearce 
direct the singing it was all I could do to maintain my 
gravity, though I had been religiously trained always 
to observe strict decorum in the services of the sanctu- 
ary. He would read the line in a deep monotone, pro- 
longing its last syllable and sliding up with it still on 
his tongue to the tone with which the tune began, when 
the people, being given the pitch, would join with him 
in singing the part he had read. This was continued 
throughout the psalm or hymn, as it might be, the slur 
to the proper pitch being up or down as the opening 
tone of the line might call for. I soon lost all inclina- 
tion to indulge my risibilities in my wondering admira- 
tion of the vocal agility of the precentor, and the ac- 
curacy with which he slid to the proper pitch every 
time. On this occasion I glanced towards the Colling 
girls, to see how it affected them. Mary’s eyes were 


108 


Sim Greene. 


demurely downcast, but Mabel was gazing in wide- 
eyed and undisguised wonder at the precentor. 

The “ action sermon ” was preached, as was usually 
the case, by the pastor, and it was a loving message, 
inviting, in the name of the Master, his people to draw 
near and sit down and sup at His table. The speak- 
er’s vivid portrayal of the Last Supper, the agony in 
Gethsemane, the arrest, the cruel travesties of the trial, 
the scourging and the final consummation on Calvary, 
made a powerful impression on the great audience, and 
when he ceased speaking many were in tears, while 
sighs and groans were heard on every hand. Mr. 
Smith then followed with “ fencing the tables,” taking 
up nearly an hour. He reviewed all the sins forbidden 
in the Ten Commandments, greatly amplifying in his 
application of those concrete rules of conduct. 

The communion itself was a very solemn service. 
The tables were served by the elders. Among these 
were Colonel Bayard and Colonel Edward Cook, who 
had come from his home near Rehoboth meeting-house, 
nine miles up the Forks. The people went to the ta- 
bles by families, and the tables were many times filled 
before all had partaken, so that it was well past the 
hour of noon before the service was concluded. 

The people had brought provisions with them for a 
mid-day lunch, and this was now partaken of. At its 
conclusion and when the horses had been given atten- 
tion, the people reassembled for the afternoon sermon. 
It was preceded by prayer and singing. There is 
something to me particularly impressive in the swell- 
ing harmony of a multitude of voices singing in the 
forest. When praise of the Creator is the theme, it is 
no wonder that, surrounded by the beauties of His 


Sim Greene. 


109 


handiwork, impressions are made on many which lead 
to their entrance upon the higher life. The great suc- 
cess of the old time camp-meeting must be attributable 
in a considerable degree, to this influence. 

On this occasion Mr. Smith preached the sermon, 
and it was a remarkable deliverance from a remarka- 
ble man, the vast audience before him being swayed 
under its power like rushes before a strong wind. He 
pictured the terrors of the law and the horrors of hell 
until many, shuddering, moaning, gasping where they 
sat, or falling to the ground, called out for mercy. And 
when he portrayed the glories of heaven, it seemed as 
if a gateway had been opened above and a beam of 
the ineffable brightness had shone through. Tears were 
on nearly every cheek, but with many they were the 
tokens of peace and joy. 

The service was prolonged until late in the after- 
noon, and many who had come from a distance began to 
make preparations for departing. Some were going 
off on foot, some disengaging the bridles of their horses 
from branches of near by trees, some already mounted, 
when Mr. Smith raised his voice until it rang out in 
every part of the grounds, and said : “ One word to 

those who are now retiring, and who cannot remain 
longer with us. We are told that when this supper 
was celebrated for the first time none retired from the 
place until all was over, but Judas. If there be any 
Judases here, let them go! But let them remember 
that what they have heard and seen here to-day will 
follow them to their homes and to hell, if they go 
there ! ”* The effect was like an electric shock, and 


* “ Old Redstone. 


no Sim Greene. 

nearly all returned and remained until the benediction 
was pronounced. 

This sacramental service proved the beginning of a 
great revival which continued even during the busy 
time of the harvest, and many professed conversion 
whose after lives attested the thoroughness of the work 
wrought in them. I wonder why my great church in 
these days has so largely passed this work of sturdy 
evangelism over to the more aggressive denominations, 
when it was planted in this western country amid such 
scenes as that which has just been described. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


PORTENTS OF A STORM. 

I N the two years following the events recorded in 
the last chapter nothing occurred which now 
seems worthy of being referred to at length. The 
little town grew in size and importance as a point of 
departure for the river trip of those going to make 
their homes in the valley of the Ohio, and as the only 
place thus far regularly laid out in a town plot be- 
tween Pittsburgh and Redstone Old Fort, or Browns- 
ville, as it was coming to be called. The boat building 
industry grew with the growth in other lines, and more 
men were employed in the yards. 

The school still claimed my attention in the winter 
months, and Colonel Bayard found employment for me 
when it was not in session, “ to keep me out of mis- 
chief, ?? as he said. But I knew that the kindness of 
his heart prompted him to see that 1 had thus this 
means of supplementing the income from my teach- 
ing, never very great, so that I could live without going 
in debt between sessions, and still keep sending the 
little sums from time to time to my aged parents. 
Mabel continued to be one of my pupils, and was now 
a growing girl of fifteen, but still her old self in her 
ways. She was an apt pupil, and had already taken 
up some studies in advance of the branches commonly 
taught in the school. 

Harold had been compelled to drop out of school 
111 


112 


Sim Greene. 


some time before. Poor boy ! the home cares were thus 
early falling upon his shoulders. His father had not 
improved in his ways in the new home, but rather the 
drink habit had grown on him, until, from being one 
who occasionally went on a spree, he was now only 
occasionally in a condition to work. Por some time 
Harold had been working in the boat-yard, and, though 
his pay was small, because he was but an apprentice, 
it amounted to as much as his father earned by his ir- 
regular working, and did more good in keeping up the 
home; for, of the little earned by the elder Harden, 
almost nothing found its way there. But Harold also 
had a thirst for knowledge, and I was hearing his reci- 
tations. Colonel Bayard, learning of the circum- 
stances, loaned him books and otherwise encouraged 
him in his studies. He was making excellent progress, 
and was already far beyond the curriculum of the 
school. My evenings were largely taken up with these 
two pupils. 

During the spring and summer we began to hear 
much of the excise law passed in March of that year 
by Congress, taxing whisky and the stills by which it 
was produced. The measure was very unpopular 
throughout the western country, and it was freely pre- 
dicted that there would be trouble if a serious attempt 
should be made to enforce it. This was the first such 
enactment by the general government, and was the plan 
of Alexander Hamilton, then Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, for the raising of funds needed to meet the ex- 
pense of administration and paying the debt with which 
the young nation was burdened. There had been ex- 
cise laws passed in the province and the state before, 
at different times, but they were always unpopular, 


Sim Greene. 


113 


and each such enactment was repealed after being in 
force but a short time. There was one such on the 
statute-books of Pennsylvania at that time, but it was 
practically a dead letter and was promptly repealed in 
the agitation which the passage of the national act 
aroused. The Legislature of the state also passed reso- 
lutions expressing strong disapproval of the measure 
while it was pending in Congress. Of course there 
was some politics in it all, the national administration 
being upheld by the Federal party, while the state of 
Pennsylvania, and particularly the western portion of 
it, was peopled by those who were strongly of the Re- 
publican, the predecessor of the present Democratic 
party. 

In those days the making and selling of spirituous 
liquors was regarded as being quite as legitimate and 
respectable as any other line of industry or trade. The 
Scotch-Irish, who made up a large part of the popula- 
tion of the western counties of Pennsylvania then, had 
brought with them from the old world not only this 
sentiment with regard to the making and using of 
whisky, which was their national beverage, but also a 
hereditary and deep-seated hatred for excise laws and 
any who were concerned in their enforcement. Collec- 
tion of such taxes in the old country had meant prac- 
tically cruel exaction and oppression in many cases. 
The privacy of the home was violated, and the small- 
est quantity of whisky discovered, which did not bear 
the official brand, was followed by confiscation of the 
product and imprisonment of the one in whose posses- 
sion it was found. As one writer says: “ Taxation 
had in Europe come to be an absolute spoliation of all 
who had no voice in the affairs of the state.” 

8 


114 


Sim Greene. 


Added to this was the fact that whisky furnished 
almost the sole source of revenue available to the agri- 
cultural class, which made up the vast majority of the 
people then living in the western counties of the state. 
The rich soil produced grain greatly in excess of the 
needs of the inhabitants, but it could not be marketed 
because of the isolation of the district and the insuffi- 
cient means of transportation. Navigation of the Ohio 
and Mississippi rivers was practically closed by Indian 
wars, even had there been no other impediments to 
trade with the Spanish settlements about the mouth of 
the Mississippi. The cost of packing a barrel of flour 
over the mountains was more than it would sell for in 
Baltimore or Philadelphia. Rye was the staple and 
surest crop of the region. A horse could pack but four 
bushels of it over the mountains, but could carry the 
product of twenty-four bushels of the grain distilled 
into whisky, and there was always a ready market for 
it. The country was almost without specie, and the 
continental script was so depreciated that it was well 
nigh worthless. Whisky was made from the product 
of nearly every farm, and was to a large extent the 
medium of exchange. 

The tax imposed by the new law was a specific one, 
both on the still, according to its capacity, and on its 
product, and Was payable in specie or its equivalent. 
The distiller was required to enter his stills with the 
government officer appointed for the purpose, and to 
pay for the license issued to him. Taxing of both the 
still and the liquor was intended to catch both the dis- 
tiller and the raiser of the grain. Failure to comply 
with the law was punishable by seizure of the still and 
its product and other penalties imposed at the discre- 


Sim Greene. 


115 


tion of the Federal court, which did not then have a 
sitting west of the mountains. So, in case of proceed- 
ings against any delinquent, he was required to make 
the long, toilsome and expensive journey to the east- 
ern part of the state to answer. This was one of the 
most odious features of the law. 

I am not Writing this work in justification of the 
Insurrection. It has had many apologists. Nearly 
all of those who first wrote concerning it were prompted 
primarily by the desire to set themselves right, because 
of having had some participation in it, and nearly 
everything written of it since has been colored more or 
less by those early accounts and the prejudices of their 
writers. To my mind it was clearly wrong. But I 
have tried to do those engaged in it the justice of giv- 
ing their side of the controversy the best presentation 
of which I am capable, and deem it but right that 
these circumstances and conditions be set forth here. 

And now as to the attitude of the government. Du- 
ties on imports did not provide nearly enough reve- 
nue for its needs, and these needs were sore, on ac- 
count of the expenses of the war of a few years before 
and the exigencies of the time, in getting the govern- 
ment of the young nation fairly launched after the 
adoption of the constitution in 1787. In providing 
ways and means, in this condition, taxes were laid on 
articles supposed to he the least necessary. That is a 
principle which has obtained from the foundation of 
the government until now, and its wisdom is not ques- 
tioned, as a general proposition. 

No system of taxation was ever devised which did 
not bear with special heaviness on some individuals or 
classes, and bring from these complaint of hardship not 


116 


Sim Greene. 


shared alike by all subject to it. It cannot bo other- 
wise, from the nature of things. The peculiar condi- 
tions in the isolated western country were probably not 
fully appreciated by the framers of the law when it 
was enacted. On these being pressed on its notice, 
Congress, at its next session, materially modified the 
provisions of the law. That was before the principal 
outbreaks of the insurrectionary spirit. In other sec- 
tions of the country at large there was submission to 
the law with but little friction. 

There was another element in the situation which 
ought to be taken into account, but which has never 
been given much attention by any who have written 
concerning the Whisky Insurrection, so far as I have 
seen. There was, along with many substantial citi- 
zens who under ordinary circumstances were peaceable 
and law-abiding, a turbulent element. This had been 
greatly recruited by the riff-raff of the armies in the 
war, but was not wholly made up thus. The terrible 
border warfare of the period previous to and during 
the Kevolution had inured men to scenes of strife and 
bloodshed, and bred a spirit of lawlessness in many. 
It is a historic fact that the expedition which went 
from this section to the Moravian Indian settlements 
in Ohio and perpetrated the horrible massacre of nearly 
one hundred inoffensive and unresisting men, women 
and children, which will always remain as a stain on 
the history of our civilization, was recruited in the very 
district which later became the chief center and hotbed 
of the insurrectionary manifestation. Some of the 
very men who were engaged in that awful deed, and 
many of their descendants of the first generation, were 


Sim Greene. 

active in resistance to the authority of the government 
in the nineties. 

Earlier than this also had been manifested a spirit 
of opposition to the authority of the general govern- 
ment, which threatened a separation from the existing 
state, and with some even went so far as to contemplate 
an independent government or Old World dependency 
— both Spain and Great Britain being presumably 
open to such arrangement. On the adoption of the 
line of separation which gave the valley of the lower 
Monongahela to Pennsylvania, this was first heard from 
some who had given their allegiance to Virginia pre- 
viously, and again, when the troubles before alluded to, 
over the attempts to collect the state excise, had arisen, 
the same thing was proposed. In 1782 General Ir- 
vine, commandant at Port Pitt, wrote a letter to Gen- 
eral Washington, in which he noted the prevalence of 
such sentiment and some moves towards its realization, 
which gave him much concern. So pronounced was 
this sentiment in 1783 that the Supreme Executive 
Council of the state deemed it wise to send an emissary 
to them in an endeavor “ to bring those deluded citi- 
zens of the western counties to a proper sense of their 
duty,” who seemed disposed to separate from the Com- 
monwealth of Pennsylvania and erect a new and inde- 
pendent state. The Eev. James Finley, then a resi- 
dent of Chester county, was the man selected for this 
mission, and he performed the duty so well that he won 
an expression of approval by the power that appointed 
him which is still on record.* It was on this occasion 
that Mr. Finley, who had first seen this country in 
1765, hut had visited it a number of times in the inter- 
* Pennsylvania Archives. 


Sim Greene. 


yening years, decided to bring bis family to it and 
make it his home of the future. Five years before 
that he had organized Round Hill and Rehoboth 
churches, and now became their first regular pastor. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HEREDITY OR ENVIRONMENT ? 

C OLONEL BAYARD and Mr. Finley were dis- 
turbed by the growing unrest of the people, 
occasioned by the preparations for the enforce- 
ment of the excise law. They had a number of con- 
versations about it, and the minister expressed concern 
over the fact that many of his people, some of them of 
considerable prominence, were taking radical ground 
on the matter. No overt act had been committed, but 
there was really no occasion yet given for such, for the 
machinery of the law had not been set in operation. 
But there were frequently heard the most positive dec- 
larations from some of the more outspoken of the people 
directly affected, that they would never submit to what 
they termed the oppression of the government in this 
matter. Such expressions were heard as, “ Let them 
send a collector into this section, and we will do with 
him as we did with the state collector, Graham ! ” 

The minister was particularly concerned about Ihe 
attitude of Colonel Edward Cook, who was one of his 
ruling elders in the Rehoboth congregation, and one of 
the most prominent and influential men in the western 
country at that time. He and Colonel Bayard were 
firm friends, and Mr. Finley now suggested that it 
might be well for Colonel Bayard to have a talk with 
him on the matter. It was not feared, of course, that 
one of his character and standing would resort to or 

119 


120 


Sim Greene. 


give countenance to violence, but it was felt that he 
would be a tower of strength in support of law and 
order, if he could be won to advocate general submis- 
sion to the enactment until it could be modified or re- 
pealed, and not take any prominent part in the agita- 
tion against the law, which the minister feared would 
give encouragement to others to offer open resistance 
to its operation. Colonel Cook was outspoken in his 
opposition to the excise law, and had so expressed him- 
self to his pastor. 

Colonel Bayard approved of the idea, and said he 
would make a visit to the Cook place and have a talk 
with its proprietor. He was kind enough to ask me to 
accompany him, and I gladly accepted, being desirous 
of seeing more of the Forks region, and especially the 
home plantation of Colonel Cook, which I had heard 
spoken of as one of the finest in the whole western 
country. We set out early on the morning of a day in 
the last week of July, going on horseback. It so 
chanced that we arrived at our destination on the day 
immediately following a gathering for conference of 
some of the more prominent men of the region who 
were opposed to the enforcement of the obnoxious law. 
This had assembled at Brownsville, and was the earliest 
of a number of such meetings. 

Our way led out the hollow road, passing near the 
Round Hill meeting-house and past the Black Horse 
tavern. We were on the road while the dew was still 
sparkling, like myriads of diamonds, on grass and tree, 
in the light of the morning sun. The earlier harvest 
was over, for the season was a forward one, but the 
clearings showed fields of ripening oats and of rustling 
maize. 


Sim Greene. 


121 


We talked of various things as we rode along. The 
Colonel was a most interesting conversationalist and I 
always enjoyed hearing him talk. Very naturally, we 
soon got on the object of our trip and the desirable- 
ness of having the powerful influence of Colonel Cook 
on what we considered the right side in the crisis which 
seemed to be impending. That naturally led to some 
remarks on the power of personal influence and our 
responsibility so to live that our influence shall always 
be for good to those about us. I had given expression 
to such sentiment and the Colonel indorsed it, but 
added : 

“ We are, however, creatures of most complex growth, 
especially in the formation of character. The words 
and examples of others have their powerful influence, 
and even the climatic conditions and the times in which 
we live have their contributions in the fashioning of 
the manner of lives we live. But equally important 
with any of these, to my mind, is heredity. Sometimes 
I think it is even more powerful than any other single 
influence. What a responsibility is ours through whose 
agency children are brought into the world ! Not only 
are we under obligation to use our best endeavors for 
their proper training, but at the very outset they are 
helped or handicapped by the characteristics, the tastes 
and the tendencies transmitted to them from us.” 

I ventured to express the belief that the influences 
of environment were more potent in character forming 
than heredity. But the Colonel continued to maintain 
his position, which I found then and in conversations 
afterwards to be a hobby with him. 

“ Why, think,” said he, “ environment is an extrane- 
ous influence, a fashioning from without, but heredity 


122 


Sim Greene. 


deals with the very substance of our beings itself. It 
well nigh does everything but fix our eternal destiny. 
That, of course, is in the hands of the great Father 
of us all, whose providence unfailingly accomplishes 
the effectual calling of the elect according to His pur- 
pose. ‘ For whom he did foreknow, he also did pre- 
destinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that 
he might be the firstborn among many brethren. More- 
over, whom he did predestinate, them he also called ; 
and whom he called, them he also justified; and whom 
he justified, them he also glorified.” 

That being one of the basal texts of my creed, I could 
not attempt to controvert it, even had I wished to do 
so, which, of course, I did not. But I said : 

“ But suppose one’s father and mother to be the op- 
posites in their characteristics, the perfect antipodes of 
one another, what is the result? The child cannot be 
like both of them.” 

“ Ah, that is just what I expected you to ask,” re- 
plied the Colonel, warming up on his favorite theme. 
“ The manifestations of the law of heredity are neces- 
sarily complex, for the reason that you have noted and 
for others. The results of unlikeness in the parents 
are varied. Sometimes the offspring partakes of the 
characteristics of both parents, if these can be blended. 
In other cases one child will be like the father and 
another like the mother. Heredity is manifested both 
physically and mentally, so a child may look like one 
parent and have the temperament and mental gifts of 
the other. Again, sometimes transmitted characteris- 
tics jump over one or more generations, and appear in 
grandchildren or their offspring. It is all in accord- 
ance with the law decreed by the Deity in ‘ visiting the 


Sim Greene. 


123 


iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the 
third and fourth generation of them that hate me ; and 
showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me 
and keep my commandments.’ ” 

“ I was wondering at first how, according to your 
theory, the case of our young friend Harden and his 
father was to be accounted for, but what you have said 
later seems to clear it up somewhat.” 

“ Certainly ; their great unlikeness may be accounted 
for on the ground of atavism, or it may be that his 
mother, of whom I know nothing, was his prototype. 
The young man has many qualities which are admi- 
rable, though I think he lacks self-assertion. His 
father, on the other hand, is sadly lacking in admirable 
qualities. A certain amount of the credit for the 
youth’s amiable traits is due, doubtless, to the faithful 
training of that good woman, his aunt, but I will ven- 
ture the assertion that in a considerable measure they 
were derived from a not very remote ancestor. There 
is a family resemblance of the son to the father, and 
yet he is distinctly unlike his father in some features, 
too. It may be that in physical character his type is 
a blending of those of both parents. It is conceivable 
that two children born of those parents should have 
looked much alike, resembling both parents somewhat, 
but in temperament one have beeir a close copy of the 
father and the other of the mother.” 

Somehow that last statement stayed with me, and I 
thought of it long afterwards. Concluding, the Colonel 
said: 

“ Assuming the correctness of this theory, how su- 
perior a race of men could be brought into being, phys- 
ical! y, mentally and even morally, if the best repre- 


124 


Sim Greene. 


sentatives of both sexes could always be mated. \ou 
owe a duty to society and to your posterity, young man, 
to think of this, and not allow yourself to fall in love 
with a pretty face or comely form, without the true 
womanly qualities needed to make the ideal wife and 
mother.” 

I promised myself that I would heed this, but did not 
think it would be difficult to find one with the qualities 
demanded by the Colonel’s prescription, plus the pretty 
face and comely form. 

The Bayard family affords a good example of the 
persistency of certain type in transmission through 
succeeding generations. It has furnished men emi- 
nent, particularly along the lines of military genius 
and statesmanship, on two hemispheres and in four cen- 
turies. Of course the Colonel did not suggest this to 
me, but being interested, I have looked it up and find 
in it a wonderful illustration and apparent confirma- 
tion of one of his theories of heredity. 

When he ceased talking we drew up at Captain 
Peterson’s place. The host of the Black Horse greeted 
us cordially. The Colonel had thought of staying there 
through the hot hours of mid-day and taking the noon 
meal there, but on learning from Captain Peterson of 
a Methodist camp-meeting in progress in the woods ad- 
joining Fell’s church, a little farther on our way, re- 
solved to push on and wait there. I was pleased with 
this arrangement, for I had never been at one of these 
gatherings. The Captain assured us that the services 
in progress were most interesting. 

We were soon at the place. The church was at a 
road crossing. Like all the churches of its day in this 
section, it was built of logs. It had been erected six 


Sim Greene. 


125 


years before the time I first saw it, and it enjoyed the 
distinction of being the first Methodist church built 
west of the mountains. In the woods near by was the 
camp-meeting ground, the gathering being an annual 
event, and usually extending over a week or more. To 
it came people from miles around, many of whom 
stayed until the close of the meeting. 

Some of the tents were of canvas and some of skins; 
but there were booths of bark and of boughs of trees, 
as well. These were arranged in the form of a hollow 
square, with the entrance in each case opening into the 
square. Midway in one of the end rows was the 
preaching stand, much like the tent at the Round Hill 
grove, but having back of it an apartment provided 
with bunks, in which the preachers in attendance at 
the meeting slept. A door gave communication be- 
tween it and the preaching stand. With the exception 
of a passage-way around inside the square, the space 
was filled with logs, arranged for seats, and it could 
accommodate a vast crowd. At each corner of the 
seated space was a platform a few feet square, set on 
four posts, and looking something like a high table. A 
layer of earth was on top of each of these, and at night 
fires were kept burning brightly on them, affording 
illumination for all the enclosure, thus presenting a, 
most interesting and picturesque scene. 

Services were in progress as we came on the grounds, 
and the seats were nearly all filled. We found seats 
well to the rear and sat down to take note of the pro- 
ceedings. Curiosity was the motive chiefly prompting 
me. The feeling of jealousy among the different de- 
nominations, still, unhappily, existing in too great a 
degree, was much more intense then, and the Metho- 


126 


Sim Greene. 


dists, who were the latest to gain a footing, were held 
in a certain contempt by many members of the other 
churches then represented in the western country. 
They were even persecuted to some extent, but this was 
by the ignorant and vicious, though I think it had its 
encouragement in the outspoken and often uncharitable 
criticism by prominent members of the several Pres- 
byterian and Baptist bodies. I confess that in some 
measure I entertained this feeling of contempt, though 
I really had nothing substantial to base it on, having 
never until this time attended one of their meetings. 
I am glad that the times are changing in this respect, 
and that brethren of the different sects are dwelling 
more in unity, though there are yet among us many who 
seem to think they are on the only road to the celestial 
kingdom, and that all whose belief differs from theirs 
must land in the ditch. 

The morning service was drawing toward the close, 
and a young man was preaching. He was of dark com- 
plexion and a grave but intelligent expression of counte- 
nance, his long black hair adding to the solemn aspect 
of his features. What impressed me particularly was 
his deep earnestness, as he set forth the importance of 
preparation here for the life to come. From time to 
time the sentiments expressed by the preacher called 
forth ejaculations of assent or praise from the men and 
women immediately in front of him, who were hanging 
on his every utterance, and when he closed, in a lofty 
flight in which the glories of heaven were pictured, 
there was a chorus of “ Amen ! ” “ Hallelujah ! ” and 

*f Praise the Lord ! ” 

The speaker was the Pev. Daniel Hitt, who only the 
year before had entered the itinerant ranks, and in some 


Sim Greene. 


127 


years following preached in various churches through- 
out the western country. The singing of the hymn, 
“ Am I a soldier of the cross ? ” and the benediction by 
another minister to whom we were afterwards intro- 
duced and found to he the Rev. Amos Thompson, pre- 
siding elder of the district, concluded the services for 
that hour. The singing particularly impressed me by 
its heartiness and the fact that everybody sang. I re- 
member the tune of the closing hymn was St. Martin’s. 
I have before spoken of the effect that a multitude sing- 
ing songs of praise in the forest has always had upon 
me, and now it was borne in upon me that these people 
were much in earnest and that their whole hearts were 
in their worship. I am glad that now, an old man, I 
have gone further than that and can heartily join them 
in worship, though of another household in the great 
dominion of our common King. 


CHAPTER XV. 


SUBMISSION OR RESISTANCE ? 

C OLOXEL BAYARD was greeted cordially by 
many people who knew him, in the throng, and 
we had many invitations to dinner. That 
of the Fell and Beazel families was accepted. Though 
living in the immediate vicinity, they had tents in the 
encampment. These adjoined, and they did their 
cooking and eating together. These people had been 
largely instrumental, a few years before, in the build- 
ing of the now historic church, and jointly had donated 
the ground on which it stood. They were very cor- 
dial in dispensing their generous hospitality, and a 
pleasant hour was spent with them. 

There was present at that meal as their guest a 
preacher named Valentine Cook. He was not in any 
way related to Colonel Cook, so far as I have been able 
to learn. As we shall meet him again in the course 
of this narrative, 1 think it well to say something fur- 
ther of him now. He was a man of striking appear- 
ance, fully six feet tall, broad-shouldered, erect and 
muscular. His complexion was very dark, hair dark 
and curly, eyes black, piercing and shaded by heavy 
brows and lashes, and mouth uncommonly large. He 
was a product of the western Virginia mountains, and 
seemed to partake of the characteristics of the hunter 
and Indian, walking with a noiseless tread, his eyes 
moving from side to side and seeing everything. He 
128 


Sim Greene. 129 

had a voice of wonderful power and was a good singer 
and fond of music. 

We took our leave of the camp-ground about, the mid- 
dle of the afternoon, when the services were again under 
way, the Colonel promising that if he could so arrange 
it, we would stop there again the following evening on 
our way home. A ride of an hour or two brought us 
to Colonel Cook’s place. Here, on the hilltops back 
from the river, many broad acres had been cleared and 
were under cultivation. The house, which was in the 
midst of his plantation of three thousand acres with its 
frontage on the Monongahela, was substantially built 
of stone, and was the first such structure in all that part 
of the country. It is of two stories (for it still stands 
as I write this, with promise of many more years of use- 
fulness) and a wide hallway runs through it. Some dis- 
tance in the rear were the negro quarters, for the 
Colonel was a large owner of slaves, and the other farm 
buildings were grouped about. Everywhere were evi- 
dences of the thrift and good management of the owner. 

We were cordially received, and found that the house- 
hold had another visitor in the person of Albert Galla- 
tin, who had accompanied Colonel Cook home from the 
meeting at Brownsville. He was there to spend a day 
or two in conference with the Colonel on the matter 
in which we soon found they were both intensely in- 
terested, before returning to his fine place at Friend- 
ship Hill, overlooking the Monongahela, near the vil- 
lage which Mr. Gallatin had named Hew Geneva, in 
honor of the city of his birth in Switzerland. He was 
then thirty years old, a man of striking appearance, 
who greatly interested me at once. He was a little 
above the medium height and of compact figure. His 
9 


130 


Sim Greene. 


complexion was dark and his hair black. Already this 
was beginning to thin out about the temples, betoken- 
ing early baldness on top of the head. His face was 
clean shaven except rather thin whiskers extending 
down to the tips of his ears. The face was oval in 
shape, the forehead being high and expansive, while 
the chin was- pointed. The nose was his most prom- 
inent feature, being very long. The mouth was firm 
without being large. The whole expression of the 
face was pleasing, the hazel eyes, calm and expressive, 
being its best feature. The face to me seemed to have 
been shadowed by a great grief, and I learned after- 
wards that this had been in the sudden death of his 
young bride, which occurred but a few months after 
he had brought her from her Richmond home to the 
western wilderness. Between Mr. Gallatin and his 
wife an unusually tender bond of affection had ex- 
isted. 

He had been elected the previous year to the Legis- 
lature of the state, beginning the remarkable career 
in legislation, administration and diplomacy which 
has rarely been paralleled in American political life. 
He had acted as secretary of the meeting at Browns- 
ville, over which Colonel Cook presided, and both of 
them seemed to be full of the subject which had occu- 
pied its deliberations. Mr. Gallatin at this time spoke 
with a strong foreign accent, and at times hesitated, 
seeking the desired word to express his meaning. He 
spoke French fluently, and its idiom marked his con- 
versation somewhat even in the new tongue he was 
seeking to master. That he was at this time to some 
extent under the control of the ideas then largely 
dominant through the influence of the French Revo- 


Sim Greene. 


131 


lution, there is little reason to doubt. But it is to be 
said for him that if his attitude at the beginning of 
the troubles which followed was responsible in some 
degree for encouraging dthers less well poised to acts 
of violence and treason, lie nobly atoned for it later 
by the signal service he performed in stemming the 
tide of insurrection, at a time and under circum- 
stances, too, which required courage of the highest 
quality. 

In the conversation which ensued after supper, I 
think Colonel Bayard soon perceived that his mission 
was likely to be barren of results, but he held up his 
end of the argument. We were told that at the 
Brownsville meeting, which was only intended to be 
of a preliminary character, it had been decided to con- 
stitute a committee in each of the counties of the 
Fourth Survey (Washington, Allegheny, Fayette, 
Westmoreland and Bedford) to meet at the respective 
county seats and take measures looking to the effective 
resistance of the excise law. This Brownsville meet- 
ing was the formal beginning of what is known in his- 
tory as the Whisky Insurrection, and its measures were 
subsequently carried out in all of the counties except 
Bedford. 

While we talked a few other men of the neighbor- 
hood gathered in, until soon there was a goodly com- 
pany, all of whom seemed to be prompted by the desire 
to learn all they could of the movement in opposition 
to the excise law, and to be in hearty sympathy with 
that movement. Colonel Cook had detailed the do- 
ings of the meeting of the day before and dilated on 
the enthusiasm of those who had attended it, coming 
from all parts of the survey. 


132 


Sim Greene. 


“ But don’t you think ? ” asked Colonel Bayard, 
“ that this action is imprudent and even dangerous ? 
The excise act is now a law on our statute-books, and 
is it hot, as good citizens, a part of our duty to sub- 
mit to its provisions, while protesting against those fea- 
tures which make it particularly onerous to the people 
of our section ? ” 

“ The protesting has been done,” replied Colonel 
Cook. “ Did not our Legislature file its vigorous pro- 
test while the act was under consideration in Congress ? 
And did not ou-r representatives in both branches of 
that body, obedient to the instructions given them by a 
vote of more than three to one, oppose its passage and 
in the debates explain its injustice to these western 
counties ? ” 

“ All true, but in its practical operation I cannot 
help but think that these things will become so ap- 
parent that the law must speedily be modified in our 
interest, if not repealed. I agree that it is a hard- 
ship, and I speak as one interested to a considerable 
extent in the distilling business in Pittsburgh, and thus 
directly affected. But, gentlemen, there are unavoid- 
ably burdens to be borne in any scheme of taxation, 
and necessarily those of some classes must be greater 
than those of others. Is it not our patriotic duty to 
be in submission to the powers that be, and bear for a 
time the great, and I may even say, the unjust share 
of this burden, under this present law, while exerting 
ourselves to secure a more equitable adjustment ? ” 

“ You may well say ours is an unjust share,” spoke 
up a man who until this time had been a quiet listener. 
He was Levi Stephens, a farmer of the neighborhood, 
who had come to the western country as a surveyor for 


Sim Greene. 


133 


the state. “ I am just back from Baltimore, and I 
found that the price of a gallon of whisky there is just 
double what it brings here. The producer there pays 
exactly the same tax on a gallon that we do, and gets 
twice as much for it. 

“ I do not think it will be necessary to go to the 
length of forcible resistance/’ said Colonel Cook. “ I 
am not certain what my course would be in that event. 
That is a question to be met if it comes. I love my 
country, and have great hopes for her future, unless 
the rule of a class is allowed to usurp the will of the 
whole people. In that event the late struggle shall 
have been in vain, and we shall find that we have only 
exchanged masters instead of achieving independence. 
But I think in this case all that will be necessary will 
be to show a determined spirit of uncompromising op- 
position to the operation of the new law, and the at- 
tempt will not be made to enforce it here. The present 
state excise law is a dead letter in the western coun- 
ties, and it is by common consent accepted that it is 
not designed to be enforced on such small operations of 
domestic distilling as are found on the farms of this 
region. My friend Gallatin tells me that the coming 
session of the Legislature will almost certainly wipe 
it from the statute-book entirely.” 

“ Oui, I sink zat, certainment, Messieurs,” said Mr. 
Gallatin. “ Many of ze representatives haf assure me 
so.” 

“ If we could be assured,” said Colonel Bayard, “ that 
all men would be governed by the moderation and self- 
control that I feel sure Colonel Cook and Mr. Gallatin 
will, that would not be so serious a matter, though my 
judgment does not approve of any show of resistance. 


134 


Sim Greene. 


But I think, gentlemen, that I know President Wash- 
ington and his Secretary of the Treasury well enough 
to give you the assurance that there will be no partial 
enforcement of a law because of its unpopularity in a 
given section. It is when the exciseman comes to men 
not so self-contained, and who have a hereditary an- 
tipathy to the excise system, that the clash is most cer- 
tain to come. And, excuse me, gentlemen, I cannot 
help but add that a large share of the responsibility in 
that case will be on those men of influence and stand- 
ing in the community whose expressed hostility to the 
operation of the law carries with it all the weight of 
that influence and standing.” 

As if to justify the Colonel’s prediction, an Irish- 
man present spoke up as soon as that gentleman ceased 
speaking, the word “ exciseman ” having caught his 
ear, without having fully comprehended the remainder 
of the remark: 

“ Dom the axcoiseman, sez Oi. The only way til 
settle his case is til chase him out as soon as he shows 
his nose ; an’ crack his gourd wid a schtick if he won’t 
go.” 

This brought a laugh, but nobody ventured an ex- 
pression of disapproval of the sentiment. Colonel 
Cook hastened to add: 

“ The question bears some resemblance to those 
which faced us when we felt impelled to resist the en- 
croachments on our rights by the mother country. The 
Stamp Act was scarcely more odious than this excise 
law; and the taking of persons beyond the sea for 
trial, as complained of in the immortal Declaration, 
was only worse in degree than the taking of our people 
to Philadelphia to answer for infractions of this law.” 


Sim Greene. 


135 


“ With this difference,” replied Colonel Bayard, 
“ that those hardships were inflicted on us by a govern- 
ing power in which we had no voice, whereas these come 
to us as the result of the matured judgment of our 
own representatives, or a majority of them. In the 
first case there was absolutely no relief except by an 
appeal to arms, and that came only after all appeal by 
petition had been proved in vain. In the present case, 
if our chosen servants fail to do our will, we can dis- 
place them with others who will.” 

“ Yes,” said Colonel Cook, with more warmth than 
had been displayed before, “ and there comes in your 
Federalist doctrine. I say that our representatives 
are the men of our state who nobly stood for our rights. 
You say that the representatives of other states are 
the ones by a majority qualified to determine what we 
of this sovereign state of Pennsylvania shall do ! ” 

And there it was in that early day of the republic, 
that vexed question of states rights versus the power 
and authority of the general government. It had been 
hotly debated in the convention which framed the 
constitution, then still an experiment, and to-day it is 
the greatest question before the American people, in 
the final settlement of which I fear there will be dire 
strife ! * 

The discussion continued for. some time longer. I was 
the only person present who sympathized with the posi- 
tion held by Colonel Bayard. My admiration for him 
was greater than ever when he continued to meet and an- 
swer every argument, and there did not seem to be any 

* And now, happily, the readers of that last paragraph, perusing 
it half a century after it was penned, know that question only as 
an interesting one in the history of their country, though settled 
at a fearful cost. 


136 


Sim Greene. 


occasion for me to put in a word. Though, to my 
mind, he clearly had the better of the argument, yet he 
was not dictatorial and never exhibited any heat. He 
was ever courteous and tolerant, and did not show the 
least trace of an exulting spirit when, as I saw it, he had 
practically routed the opposition. But, of course, no- 
body was convinced after it was all said. Persons 
rarely are, under such circumstances. It was evident, 
however, that my friend was held in the highest respect 
by those who differed with him. And thus it was 
through all the troublous time that followed. There 
came a period when it was a perilous thing for any 
man to have it known that he stood for the government 
and against the insurrectionary spirit then rampant, 
and especially to express such views. Colonel Bayard 
never was offensive in obtruding his views, yet his 
opinions and attitude on this matter never were uncer- 
tain, and through all of it, he maintained the respect 
of his fellows. Such is the power of character. 

We remained at the Cook home that night and until 
the afternoon of the following day. The discussion 
was renewed from time ta time between the two gen- 
tlemen who had maintained it chiefly the night before. 
Mr. Gallatin did not have much to say, though he was 
a careful listener to the words of the others. Occa- 
sionally he put in a remark which showed that he was 
carefully following the discussion and noting the points 
made on each side. His sympathy clearly was with 
the people who, in his judgment, would be distressed 
by the enforcement of the law. He did not once voice 
approbation of any physical resistance of such enforce- 
ment, and expressed the hope that those in control of 
the functions of government would see the folly of try- 


Sim Greene. 


137 


ing to enforce the law, as it then stood, in the western 
country, and see to the early modification of the en- 
actment. 

Colonel Cook remained firm in his adherence to the 
idea that the only proper attitude was one of uncom- 
promising opposition to the enforcement of the excise 
law in the western country. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CAMP-MEETING AT FELL’S. 

T OWARDS evening we took our journey home- 
ward, having resolved to stop again at the 
camp-meeting. We passed the Rehoboth 
meeting-house on the way, and my companion spoke 
of Colonel Cook, expressing regret that he was not able 
to bear to its minister such tidings as he desired con- 
cerning his leading man in this part of his work. We 
arrived at the camp-ground in time for supper, and 
again had invitations from all sides. We learned that 
the meeting had taken on great additional interest the 
night before, under the preaching of Mr. Cook, many 
being convicted of their sinful state and a number pro- 
fessing conversion. He was to preach again that 
night. There had been some disturbance of the meet- 
ing by some young roughs who had come to the ground 
in a half-drunken state, and had started to interfere 
with the services. They were promptly ejected, and 
went off, threatening to return in force the following 
night. This caused some uneasiness among the people 
in charge of the meeting. 

“ It is unfortunate,” said Colonel Bayard, “ that 
there exists the narrowness of view among some of our 
good people, leading them to express contempt for those 
of other faith than their own, and belittle their work. 
That undoubtedly encourages the evil-minded to these 
acts of persecution. I have just been trying to con- 
138 


Sim Greene. 


139 


vince a worthy man who has great influence of his re- 
sponsibility for that influence, and the importance of 
exerting it ever for the right. Here is another in- 
stance of the same thing.” 

The Colonel was of a catholicity many years ahead 
of his time. This was shown by his attendance on 
and participation in these meetings of the Methodists. 
He gave additional proof of his broadness that night by 
acquiescing in the meeting to a request of the presid- 
ing elder to lead in prayer, and he voiced a fervent 
petition for the success of the efforts being put forth 
for the spread of the Redeemer’s kingdom, he, of 
course, standing, while the Methodists knelt around 
him. 

Big fires were lighted on the four structures erected 
at the corners of the enclosure for that purpose, and 
were kept burning through the entire evening. They 
shed their light over the whole space. The word of 
the “ break ” in the meeting, as it was called, had gone 
forth, and people came pouring in from miles around 
for this service, some intent on sharing in the delights 
of this “ time of refreshing,” others attracted by idle 
curiosity or a desire to find fault or make sport. A 
number of hymns were sung at the beginning of the 
service, and these were rendered with an unction which 
told of a high state of spiritual exaltation on the part 
of many of the singers. 

The seats were crowded full when the minister arose 
to preach. His tall form was one which would com- 
mand attention anywhere. He announced his text, 
“ For we must all appear before the judgment seat of 
Christ,” and began his discourse in a very deliberate 
way. His words were not loud, but the voice was of 


140 


Sim Greene. 


that quality which made it clearly heard in every part 
of the enclosure. For a considerable time he spoke in 
one tone, his language coming apparently without any 
effort. It was simple and expressed his meaning with 
a clearness which brought the truth he presented * 
plainly to the apprehension of even the dullest intel- 
lect. I remember it impressed me at the time with 
the thought of a limpid stream flowing from its foun- 
tain and reflecting heaven to any who looked into it. 
He portrayed the joy of those who should come to the 
judgment with their robes washed white. These, said 
he, will come with singing and rejoicing, and, receiv- 
ing the gracious words of approval from the Judge, 
will pass in through the gates of pearl to their ever- 
lasting inheritance. Here his every sentence was 
punctuated with ejaculations of joy and of praise from 
the enraptured people before him and the other min- 
isters in the stand with him. 

Then his whole aspect changed. His voice dropped 
to a lower pitch, but came forth with an intensity which 
thrilled all hearers. Before there had been felt a 
sense of a tremendous reserve power in the speaker, 
and now it was being expended, in part at least. As 
he talked we could see the wicked and those who had 
neglected the opportunity of securing the white robes 
come trooping upon the scene. Some were weeping 
and wailing, some were crying for mercy, and many 
were calling for the rocks and hills to fall on them and 
hide them from the face of the Judge. An awful 
stillness was now over the great audience, broken only 
by the voice of the speaker, and a sigh or a groan here 
and there, as souls realized the weight of guilt resting 
upon them. The sentence of the Judge was pro- 


Sim Greene. 


141 


nounced, and the crying, shrieking horde slunk away 
to the habitations of eternal despair. 

!Now the speaker was leaning out over the front of 
the stand, and his words came in a torrent. He told 
his hearers that unless they already had made the nec- 
essary preparation, not a moment should be lost. 
“ You are hanging over the fiery pit, suspended, as it 
■were, by a single hair. The sulphurous flames are 
leaping up, already scorching your shoes, and their 
fumes are on your garments. Only One can save 
from the fire of this dreadful pit, and His arm is now 
outstretched. Grasp it ere it be eternally too late! 
Cling to it, looking with the eye of faith upon Him 
who holds out the hand which alone can snatch from 
this awful burning ! ” 

I have but imperfectly given the substance of this 
remarkable discourse. Even could I give the language 
verbatim, I could convey but a faint idea of its power 
as it fell from the lips of the speaker, backed by his 
personality. It seemed to me that this young man of 
twenty-six spoke with the authority and power of the 
prophets of old. The scene that followed defies de- 
scription. As he spoke the people began to bend for- 
ward towards him. Then many arose and pressed yet 
nearer, as if enthralled by the scene presented in his 
glowing words. Horror was depicted in many faces, 
and soon men and women began to fall to the earth, 
crying aloud for mercy. Some were stricken as if by 
palsy. Erom the stand the torrent of speech poured 
on. Arrows of conviction that pierced to the center 
of the soul seemed to be flying out among the people, 
striking down men and women on every side. 

Then the speaker ceased, and spreading his hands 


142 


Sim Greene. 


upward and outward, said, “ Let us pray.” Down on 
our knees went all of us, for it seemed to me then that 
no other attitude was seemly under such circumstances, 
unless it be to fall on one’s face. Many, indeed, did 
that. And such a prayer as that man of God sent up 
to the throne of grace ! Its power could be felt, and 
soon the resonant voice of the minister was lost in the 
shouts of the redeemed, both those who had long been 
walking in the light and others who were just stepping 
within it, and the groans and cries of those who were 
bowed down by the awful sense of present sin unpar- 
doned. The meeting continued until late, and the 
woods resounded with the singing, praying and shout- 
ing. More than one hundred souls were born into the 
kingdom that night, and the fire continued to Burn 
through the days that followed, until many more were 
brought from nature’s darkness. 

One thing in connection with the meeting that night 
should have mention here. Shortly after the preacher 
began to talk, I saw a young man slip into the en- 
closure from one side and glide into the shadow between 
two great trees. His position was near to mine, and 
watching him intently, I soon saw that it was Jim 
Wherry. Soon I saw another whom I recognized as 
one of his boon companions, taking a like position in 
another part of the enclosure, and by close watching I 
discerned others. All arrived singly, and were scat- 
tering themselves among the audience. A few I recog- 
nized from the village, others I knew to be from the 
country round about. Some I did not recognize, either 
because I did not know them, or they succeeded in 
keeping obscured so that it was impossible to identify 
them. 


Sim Greene. 


143 


I was convinced that some mischief was meant by 
this, and was not kept long in waiting for one mani- 
festation of it. At one point in the sermon, before it 
had progressed far, there came a sonorous “ Amen ! ” 
from the spot where Wherry was standing. It was 
not in connection with an utterance which would seem 
to call for such a response, and I think from the way 
the preacher looked in that direction that he detected 
the false note in it, but he gave no further evidence of 
this and proceeded with his discourse. Soon from 
another quarter came a like ejaculation, and some peo- 
ple began to be conscious that there was mischief brew- 
ing. A stalwart brother got up quietly and went to a 
seat just beside the tree in the shadow of which the 
man was standing who made the second response. He 
kept a discreet if not a respectful silence after that. 
There were a few further manifestations of like char- 
acter for a short time, but then they ceased. 

When the minister was in the midst of his final im- 
passioned appeal and persons were beginning to fall 
to the ground, Wherry suddenly broke from his cover 
and, with a cry of terror, dashed from the spot, be- 
tween two tents and off the grounds as fast as his legs 
could carry him. His companions one by one followed 
his example, and nothing more was heard of any plot 
to disturb the camp-meeting during its continuance. 
It is said that Jim Wherry, after running from the 
enclosure of the camp, hurried to his horse, which was 
tied in the woods at some distance, cut the rope with 
which it was secured with one slash of his knife, 
jumped on its back, and hardly allowed the creature to 
get out of a gallop until he reached the village, about 
seven miles distant. 


144 


Sim Greene. 


Quite different from his was the experience of an- 
other young man of about his age, Benjamin Laken by 
name. His home was in Brownsville, but he had been 
visiting friends in the vicinity, and with a number of 
other young people had gone to the camp-meeting 
through curiosity. A powerful impression was made 
on him by the services, and especially by Valentine 
Cook’s sermon, at the conclusion of which he was one 
of those who were on the ground, crying for mercy. A 
band of the praying brethren gathered around him, 
and before he left the place that night, as he after- 
wards expressed it, a great light shone down upon him. 
I met him in after years, under circumstances some- 
what similar to the occasion I have been trying to de- 
scribe, as will appear further on. 

It was late when the meeting finally broke up, and 
the Colonel thought we would better tarry at Peter- 
son’s until morning. It was but a short distance to 
the Black Horse, and we soon reached it. The Cap- 
tain was still up and busy, for the gathering of so 
many people in the vicinity had brought an unusually 
brisk business to him. He greeted us in his usual 
cheery manner, and said he “ guessed he could find a 
place to stow us away.” We rode home in the morn- 
ing, arriving there in good time to take up the duties 
of the day. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW. 

D URING the year succeeding the events last told 
of the feeling throughout the disaffected dis- 
trict was greatly intensified, and such efforts 
as were made by the government to enforce the excise 
law were defeated by the people. The committees 
formed in the four counties, in pursuance of the agree- 
ment reached at the Brownsville meeting, were organ- 
ized and they selected delegates to represent them at 
a general meeting to be held at Pittsburgh, three from 
each county. As indicating the character and stand- 
ing of the people who were prominent in the movement 
at this time, the Washington county delegation may be 
mentioned. It consisted of James Marshel, who was 
register and recorder of the county at the time ; 
David Bradford, who was its commonwealth attor- 
ney ; and the Rev. David Phillips, pastor of the 
Baptist churches at Peters Creek and Elizabeth. 
Equally prominent men were selected from the other 
counties, Colonel Cook being among those from Payette 
county and presiding over the meeting when it assem- 
bled. I am convinced that Colonel Bayard was right, 
and that the standing of the men who gave open en- 
couragement to the movement of opposition to the ex- 
cise had much to do with emboldening others to acts 
of violence later. 

This opposition in the first place was manifested 
10 145 


146 


Sim Greene. 


against the men chosen to execute the hated law. 
They were held in utter detestation, and in more than 
one instance were maltreated and forced to surrender 
their commissions or leave the country, as had been 
the case with the officers who attempted to enforce the 
state excise law earlier. The Washington county com- 
mittee at its meeting voiced this when it declared: 

“That, whereas, some men may be found among us, 
so far lost to every sense of virtue and all feeling for the 
distresses of their country as to accept the office of col- 
lector, therefore, 

“ Resolved, that in the future we shall consider all such 
persons as unworthy of our friendship, have no intercourse 
or dealings with them, withdraw from them every assist- 
ance, withhold all the comforts of life which depend upon 
those duties that as men and fellow citizens we owe to each 
other, and upon all occasions treat them with that con- 
tempt they deserve, and that it be and is hereby most 
earnestly recommended to the people at large to follow 
the same line of conduct towards them.” 

A year later, at a general convention held in the 
same interest, in Pittsburgh, this same resolution was 
passed, and Albert Gallatin, as secretary of the meet- 
ing, attested its passage by attaching his signature to it. 

In the autumn of 1791 the collector for Washington 
and Allegheny counties was waylaid by a party of 
masked men in a secluded place in the first named 
county, and was tarred and feathered, had his hair 
cut ofi and was required to promise not to show his 
face west of the mountains again. Soon after a de- 
mented schoolmaster who imagined he was an excise- 
man so announced himself, and was shamefully treated. 


Sim Greene. 


147 


Another who had the hardihood to speak against the 
violation of the law was tarred and feathered, and a 
man in whose house an office was opened for the col- 
lection of the excise was compelled, under threats of 
having his house burned, to refuse the further use of 
the property for that purpose. Not any of the per- 
sons engaged in these outrages were prosecuted, though 
the identity of many of them was well known. 

In May, 1792, Congress materially modified the 
law, reducing the rate of the taxes and providing that 
they might be paid monthly instead of yearly, if so de- 
sired. But this produced no effect, unless it was to 
intensify the spirit of opposition, because it was con- 
strued to indicate a weakening on the part of the gov- 
ernment. Then the President issued a proclamation, 
in September of that year, enjoining all persons to sub- 
mit to the law, as the government was determined to 
prosecute delinquents, to seize unexcised spirits on 
their way to market, and to make no purchases for 
the army except such spirits as had paid duty. 

Such was the state of affairs in 1792, and from that 
time it rapidly grew worse. In the hope of making* 
the effort to enforce the law more effective an inspector 
of the excise, to have jurisdiction over the Fourth 
Survey, was appointed. For this office the person se- 
lected was General John Nevill, who had been a gal- 
lant officer in the Kevolution, and later had filled many 
offices of trust and honor by the suffrages of his fellow 
citizens. He lived in a fine place, overlooking Char- 
tiers creek, in Allegheny county. He had been very 
popular among the people, and the authorities of the 
government counted on this to operate in favor of less 
difficulty in the enforcement of the law. But it had 


148 


Sim Greene. 


exactly the opposite result. The respect and honor 
of the people generally were turned into the bitterest 
detestation. They denounced him as a traitor and 
charged that he had been among those who were active 
in opposition to the state excise law, and had declared 
that the luckless Graham was let off too easily. 

General Nevill was a man of great determination 
and of undoubted personal bravery. He was not de- 
terred by the change in the attitude of his neighbors 
towards him, but entered upon the duties of the office 
determined to execute the law in the face of all oppo- 
sition. In this he was greatly hindered and delayed 
by the difficulty he encountered in getting men to ac- 
cept the positions under him, necessary for the enforce- 
ment of the law. It was almost a year before he 
could find men who would undertake the office of col- 
lector in the several counties, but finally, in June, 
1793, he published the names of the several collectors, 
with the locations of their offices. It was announced 
in the notice that stills must be entered by their own- 
ers,' in accordance with the act governing the matter, 
preliminary to the collection of the taxes to be levied 
on them and their product. On the occasion of an 
election soon afterwards, when a large crowd was gath- 
ered, General Nevill was burned in effigy, with much 
display, in the presence of magistrates and other public 
officers, who made no effort to interfere with these pro- 
ceedings. 

Then the collectors became the objects of persecu- 
tion, and all of them suffered some form of outrage, 
which included tarring and feathering, burning of 
their houses and bams, and other indignities. Nor did 
these things stop with them. Distillers who complied 


Sim Greene. 


149 


with the law and entered their stills were also made 
the objects of like persecutions, and many who would 
have obeyed the law were thus deterred. So, more 
than two years after its passage, the act was still prac- 
tically a dead letter in the western counties, though 
the machinery for its enforcement was now all pro- 
vided. 

During this time something of a change had come 
to the village on the Monongahela, and indeed to the 
whole country. The early years in the last decade of 
the eighteenth century witnessed a period of depres- 
sion throughout the land. The condition of the na- 
tional finances had reached an acute stage. The emi- 
gration of the years following the Revolution had to 
some extent run its course for the time, and, while 
there was and continued to be a stream of emigration 
to the new sections of the West, it was not of the pro- 
portions earlier seen. This had the effect of making 
business slack at the boat-yards, where before it had 
been very active. As a result of this work could not 
be provided for the men all the time, and they were 
employed only on such work as could be secured, being 
idle often for days at a time. 

In this condition Harold had joined his fortunes 
with Sim in hunting and trapping, and on such days 
as he was not at work in the boat-yard, was to be found 
in the woods, looking for game. He had always liked 
this, and as a boy had gone out with Sim whenever he 
could do so. He was now almost as skilled in wood- 
craft and wise in the ways of the inhabitants of the 
forest as his teacher. A strong friendship had grown 
up between them with the years, and in their pursuit 
of the fur-bearing creatures inhabiting the woods and 


150 Sim Greene. 

streams of the vicinity they were having a fair meas- 
ure of success. 

Mabel, now a tall girl of seventeen, had grown in 
the charm of her person, as in stature. She was really 
a most beautiful girl, and the hearts of half the young 
swains of the whole region were laid at her feet. She 
was gracious to all, but none could claim to have been 
shown any preference. For all the world knew, she 
was yet heart-free. She was not, by any means, a 
shallow coquette, for she had a kind and sympathetic 
heart. She really enjoyed the court that was paid to 
her (what woman does not?) and freely admitted it. 
She had woman’s intuition in discerning the symptoms 
of an impending avowal of affection, and was fertile 
in expedients for warding it off, but when finally it 
would come, she was all sympathy. Her tender heart 
would be touched at such times, and she would say: 

“ I am but a young girl, and have no thought of 
marrying anybody for ever and ever so long a time yet. 
Look at my sister. She is much older than I, is much 
brighter and more handsome, and she has not mar- 
ried yet.” 

And then she would tell the love-lorn youth what 
good friends they were going to be, and he would go 
away feeling that somehow he was a most fortunate 
fellow after all. Mabel was always pained at the 
thought of occasioning pain to others, but she could no 
more help being winsome than she could help being 
light-hearted. 

Harold had lost his heart completely to his old play- 
mate, now the reigning beauty, but, poor fellow! his 
love seemed to him a hopeless thing, and he never 
thought of avowing it. The circumstances of his home 


Sim Greene. 


151 


life would not admit of marriage, he thought, for he 
was practically the sole support now. And, besides 
this, there was the old backwardness of his boyhood 
upon him, and his sensitiveness to the shame of his 
father’s besotted state. He would not ask anyone to 
share that disgrace, certainly not the bright and happy 
young creature who was the object of his secret wor- 
ship. She, on her part, was still frankly his friend, 
as she had been through the earlier years of their com- 
panionship, and made no concealment of it. They 
were much together, and with his stalwart young man- 
hood and her girlish beauty they seemed a well mated 
couple, so that many nodded approvingly when they 
were seen to go by, and predicted a match. If her in- 
terest in him was more than old friendship, I could 
not detect it — but who can fathom the heart of wom- 
an ? And if Harold was ever jealous of the many 
who paid court to her graces he had succeeded thus far 
in keeping it concealed. 

I had a fellow-feeling for Harold in one particular, 
and this doubtless sharpened my powers of discern- 
ment in his case. I saw clearly that he was in love, 
and felt well assured of the reasons which prompted 
him to keep the absolute knowledge of his passion 
locked in his own bosom. Afterwards when he told 
me of it the correctness of my deductions was estab- 
lished. 

Since I had first known her my heart had been 
drawn out towards Mary Colling. For a long time I 
had not made any attempt at a careful analysis of this 
feeling, happy in the companionship with her which I 
was permitted to enjoy from time to time. I knew 
that I had great pleasure in being where she was and 


152 


Sim Greene. 


sharing in the exhalations of that rare soul in the de- 
lightful conversations with her. Like Harold, I had 
felt from the first that in the circumstances in which 
I was placed, marriage was not to be thought of. My 
income was small, and every penny beyond my abso- 
lute needs was required for the comfort of the dear old 
parents who had toiled and sacrificed for me, and were 
now, in the helplessness of age, almost solely dependent 
on me. I felt that to be my first duty, and in the state 
of the times there did not seem to be any other opening 
leading to better things. In a vague way I had a 
thought ever present of a time in the future when cir- 
cumstances would be different, and my day-dreams 
sometimes pictured a scene in which she and I, in a 
near and sacred relation, would always be together. 

If she suspected more than a friendly interest on my 
part, she never gave evidence of it. We had many 
tastes in common, and I do not think it is egotistical 
when I say I think she enjoyed our companionship on 
this account. But she never did or said a thing to 
lead me to think there was more than the friendship of 
congenial spirits, so far as she was concerned. She 
was just her gracious self, and that is all there was 
of it 

But recently there had come in on the scene what 
was to me a disturbing element. I had noticed with 
growing apprehension the interest of another man in 
her. James McFarlane, a confirmed bachelor as every- 
body regarded him, had begun to manifest an unmis- 
takable liking for her companionship. This was in a 
bashful way at first, but she was her frank self to him 
as to all others, and he soon became emboldened and 
showed her attentions which, to my mind, at least, 


Sim Greene. 


153 


could be prompted by but one motive — the desire to 
win her. Others noticed it, too, and, as in every coun- 
try neighborhood, it soon became the subject of re- 
mark. Often this was in the form of a joking allusion 
in his presence, on which occasions he would blush 
furiously but say nothing. It seemed to me, too, there 
was coming to be more than a friendly interest on her 
part, for I thought, on more than one occasion when 
he made his appearance in her presence, that there was 
a brightening of the eye and an added color to the cheek 
as she greeted him. 

Then my eyes were suddenly opened to the true state 
of the case as I was concerned in it. There is noth- 
ing like jealousy to clarify our view of self, even 
though it does often warp our vision in making an esti- 
mate of others. I knew now that I loved this girl 
with an intensity which was a part of my very being, 
and to gain her was essential to my happiness. The 
thought of another possessing her was well nigh mad- 
dening to me, and I am ashamed of the feeling with 
which I first regarded him after being convinced that 
he was a rival, and I feared a favored one. 

This was succeeded by a more generous thought. 
Major McFarlane was a man of many noble parts, and 
though Mary’s senior by a number of years (he was 
then forty-two), he was in the vigor of manhood. 
Furthermore he had made a success of life, and had 
acquired what was regarded as a competence in those 
times. He could give her the home and surroundings 
which I felt she ought to have, and the means of grati- 
fying the aesthetic tastes so strongly marked in her. 
Thus I tried to reason at times, but will the reader 
censure me when I say frankly that the conclusion 


154 Sim Greene. 

readied after such reasoning was never fully satisfy- 
ing to me ? 

Two other persons must be introduced here. They 
were Frank and Alice Sample, twin children of old 
friends of Colonel Bayard, whose home was in Pitts- 
burgh. They were nineteen years old at the time of 
which I write, and there was a remarkable resem- 
blance between them in face, though in disposition they 
differed considerably. The youth was a natty little 
fellow, and withal made a handsome appearance in his 
neatly fitting uniform of an ensign, for such was his 
rank in the army. He was at that time attached to 
the garrison at Pittsburgh. He was quiet in his dis- 
position, while his sister, on the contrary, was most 
lively and given to pranks which sometimes shocked 
her more sedate brother. 

The Colonel, who had long known both of their 
parents well, was fond of pointing out the confirma- 
tion of his theories concerning the influence of heredity 
as he found it in them. In personal appearance they 
had some of the features of both parents, but the girl 
was like her mother in disposition, while the boy in 
this particular closely resembled the father. They had 
come for a visit to the Bayard home in the early sum- 
mer of which I write. Mabel also was there, and 
soon a friendship grew up between the girls. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


ON BRIDENDALL SHOAL. 

I T was on a day in that early summer season that 
Sim and Harold started out, intending to set 
some traps along Peters creek, which empties 
into the river on the opposite side and a little over 
two miles below the town. Its course for some dis- 
tance is almost parallel with the larger stream, and 
they could have reached it by crossing the river at their 
home and going back over the high hills intervening 
between the two streams. But as the waters were then 
up somewhat and the creek, usually a shallow stream 
tumbling over the stones, could, under the existing 
conditions, be navigated with their skiff for a mile or 
more up from its mouth, by reason of the water backed 
up from the river, they determined to go by water and 
avoid carrying their traps. 

That, of course, was long before the slackwater im- 
provement of the Monongahela, which makes it now a 
deep and sluggish stream. Then the river in this part 
of its course was a succession of pools and shallow 
rapids, or “ riffles,” as they were usually called by the 
keel-boatmen. Their home village was about midway 
of one of these pools, two miles in length. The shal- 
low place at its upper end I do not remember to have 
had a name at that time, but it has since come to be 
called Cunningham’s Riffle. The one below was Brid- 
endall Shoal, or simply Bridendall, and thus it is still 

155 


156 


Sim Greene. 


known to steamboatmen, and even with the aid of the 
slackwater it is a place where pilots, in times of low 
water, must “ run the channel ” very carefully. 

To increase the depth of the water at those places 
and make their passage more easy, there were con- 
structed through them what were known as chutes. 
These gathered the water into a narrow space, increas- 
ing its velocity and thereby cutting a deeper channel 
in the bed of the stream. At such places the passage 
up stream was attended with a corresponding increase 
in difficulty. Hence the expression, “ making the 
riffle/’ which has come down to us from the old keel- 
boat days, and has come to stand for the successful 
overcoming of any difficulty, but especially a political 
victory against odds. 

At the upper end of Bridendall large stones had 
been placed in the river in two converging rows so as 
to form the letter V, but with an opening about thirty 
feet in width at its apex. This, of course, was pointed 
down-stream. The nature of the channel there made 
it necessary to direct it somewhat towards the west 
shore, and boats bore in close to that edge of the stream 
for some distance after entering the chute. The im- 
pulse towards shore given to craft by their passage 
through the chute would inevitably have beached them 
a little farther down, but this was overcome by a row 
of big stones set on edge along that side, against which 
the water impinged and was sent swirling towards mid- 
stream again.* 

It was a place calling for the careful handling of 
boats at any time, but was specially perilous with the 

* The place can be identified to-day by the great Clairton fur- 
naces which overshadow it. 


Sim Greene. 


157 


water of the river swelled as. it then was. For the 
loosely constructed jetties no longer confined the tide, 
and it poured among and over the rocks so that the 
current was quite as likely to draw any floating object 
on these as to the narrow open channel. But with at- 
tention to the steering, so that the boat was kept in 
the channel, there was little difficulty in the down pas- 
sage. Sim was at the steering-oar as they passed into 
the chute, the skiff needing no other propulsion than 
that given it by the current. 

“ I much purfer straight sailin’ tew this goin’ in 
cattery-wampus towards one shore an’ then skewin’ off 
towards the other,” said he, suiting the action to the 
words. “ It’s enough tew make a feller whopper jawed.” 

They soon arrived at the mouth of Peters creek. By 
a queer freak of nature the creek enters the river by 
a course that is obliquely up-stream. It has always 
been thickly fringed with trees and bushes, and at that 
time was even more so than the present, so that, unless 
one was sharply on the lookout, it might be passed a 
half dozen times by one in mid-stream without being 
noticed. The little boat now glided into the smaller 
stream where the willows, meeting overhead, formed a 
sort of tunnel through which the waters flowed. Low 
bottom ground surrounds the creek for about a mile 
up from its mouth, and this was then thickly covered 
with willows and other scrubby growth. In times of 
very high stage in the river this becomes covered with 
water backed up from it. The river was not at this 
time at flood stage, but Sim and Harold found the 
creek about bank full. 

Not far from its mouth an abrupt bend in the creek 
made it necessary to turn the boat sharply to the left, 


158 


Sim Greene. 


which was followed by a long sweeping curve to the 
right again. The result was the forming of a letter 
U, fully half a mile around, but not much more than 
two hundred yards across. Above this the course of 
the stream was more straight and the country more 
open. 

Here some of the traps were placed, and when they 
reached the head of the navigable part of the creek 
they had only three traps left. Sim had brought his 
gun along, in the hope of bringing down a few squir- 
rels. He now wanted to go back home overland, stop- 
ping to set some more traps in the creek valley, and 
since he did not care to carry so heavy a load, he took 
only two of the traps and his gun, telling Harold to 
take the other trap, and if he could not find a good 
place to set it, to take it back home with him in the 
boat. 

“ Guess you’ll hev your hands full when you come 
tew pullin’ through Bridendall,” said he. “ That cur- 
rent’s purty cantankerous.” 

Harold told him he thought he could make the riffle 
all right, and then the two parted. The young man 
proceeded down the creek until he reached the begin- 
ning of the long curve, without finding any place that 
he thought it would be worth while to set the trap. 
At that point he pushed his skiff in among the willows 
on his left, and so thick were they here and along all 
the remainder of the course of the creek to its mouth 
that one could not see through them. He was sur- 
prised to find at this point a depression in the bank, 
and that there was still depth of water sufficient to 
float his skiff. This seemed to extend in a straight 
course across the neck of land, and he resolved to ex- 


Sim Greene. 


159 


plore it, to see if he could get across and avoid the long 
detour of the curve. Tall weeds covered all the 
ground, but he had no difficulty in pushing through 
them, and soon arrived at the willows lining the bank 
of the creek, having crossed the neck. It was a pe- 
culiarity in the formation of the ground that he had “ 
never noticed before. He did not think much about it 
at the time, but it proved valuable to him afterwards.* 

Harold pushed his skiff through the willows and 
into the current of the creek again, and soon was out 
on the broad bosom of the Monongahela. Most of the 
afternoon had been spent in the expedition, and it was 
now drawing towards evening. He pulled steadily at 
the oars, and was soon in the chute at Bridendall. It 
was a hard pull, but the muscular young man was 
equal to it, and under his powerful strokes the skiff 
had nearly reached the point where the two jetties con- 
verged. The rush and roar of the water among the 
stones was in his ears, but above this noise he heard a 
shrill scream. The sound came from behind him, up- 
stream, and looking over his shoulder, he saw a little 
boat with one woman in it and another struggling in 
the water near by. 

He took time only to note that they were being swept 
rapidly by the current and that they were at some dis- 
tance to one side of the entrance to the chute, so were 


* Nearly a century later engineers of the Pennsylvania Railroad 
Company noticed the same thing, and, taking the hint, they cut 
a little channel across the neck, down to the level of the creek 
bottom, throwing an earthen fill across the old channel below. 
The result was the creek soon cut its way in the straight course. 
To-day, from the car windows, the old channel can still be seen in 
its horseshoe form, standing full of stagnant water, the abode of 
numerous frogs in summer and a favorite skating place in winter, 
and still lined with a few of the old willows. 


160 


Sim Greene. 


in peril of being dashed on the rocks. He redoubled 
his exertions, and soon cleared the head of the chute. 
He now changed his course so that while still up- 
stream it was in the direction of the descending boat, 
his effort being to cross in front of it. The two little 
craft were now rapidly nearing each other. There was 
not a moment allowed for pause, but as he rowed he 
took another look over his shoulder to keep his bear- 
ings. He now saw that the girl in the boat was Alice 
Sample, and with a shock he recognized the face of the 
one in the water as that of Mabel Colling. She had 
been able to grasp the side of the little boat, and was 
clinging to it. 

By a desperate exertion Harold succeeded in cross- 
ing in front of the descending boat, and swung his skiff 
around so that it would catch the other one on its side 
about midway between stem and stern, for it was float- 
ing obliquely in the water. Mabel was on the oppo- 
site side, and he called to her to hold on. He then 
directed Miss Sample to grasp the line attached to the 
bow of his skiff as soon as it should touch the other 
one, and to hold them together with all her strength. 
The next moment they came together and, although al- 
most in a panic, the girl did as directed. 

All this time the boats had been moving with the 
current, and not a moment was to be lost. He could 
not take the time to go to the relief of the girl in the 
water, but bent to the oars now with a burst of hercu- 
lean energy. In spite of all he could do the down- 
ward course of the boats, under the force of the strong 
current, could not wholly be overcome, and his effort 
was directed to pushing against it all he could, and at 
the same time towards the open channel through the 


Sim Greene. 


161 


chute. The result was that one force somewhat neu- 
tralized the other, and the boats took an oblique course 
down and across the stream. 

It was a splendid contest between the strength of the 
man and that of the element. Which would win ? 
Was it to be a victory to the man, with safety for all, or 
the triumph of the element, with its almost, certain 
levy of tribute in precious human life as a reward? 
Just ahead was the swirl of the waters where they 
glided into the chute, but just olf there again were the 
rocks, with the angry waters boiling among them and 
their gurgling roar startlingly distinct. The man 
half rose to his feet in a tremendous effort, under which 
the two skiffs were given a mighty push towards safety, 
but at the same moment the oar in his left hand was 
snapped in two by contact with a rock. That last 
pull had sent the hows within the current of the chute, 
and the skiff which was rowed by Harold struck lightly 
with its side near the stern against the same rock that 
broke the oar. This caused it to swing around until 
the two boats came side by side and glided into the 
chute. The man had won ! 

But there was yet work to d®. He sprang lightly 
across into the other skiff, and held the two closely to- 
gether with one knee, as a brace to keep from capsizing 
the one he was in. Then he knelt on a seat with the 
other knee and stooped down over the girl in the water. 
He was not a moment too soon, for her hold was just 
breaking away as he caught her. Slipping his hands 
under her arms, he slowly raised her dripping form 
out of the water. With their faces close together, 
there was one swift look from her eyes into his that 
he never forgot. Then she sank away into urn 
ll 


163 


Sim Greene, 


consciousness. For one moment her wet cheek was 
against his and her limp body was pressed against his 
throbbing heart as he lifted her into the boat, giving 
him a thrill like an electric shock, and then, as he laid 
her in the bottom of the skiff, there was heard a shout 
of “ Bravo ! ” and Frank Sample, driving a light canoe 
by powerful strokes of a long paddle, was seen, rapidly 
overhauling them. 

Then Harold sank down in utter exhaustion at the 
feet of the girl he had just snatched from a watery 
grave. He did not faint, but such was the reaction 
after his prodigious exertions that for a little time he 
could scarcely have lifted a finger. The boats were 
being borne along rapidly now, but were kept within 
the channel by the current. Soon young Sample drew 
up alongside of the other boats, and by this time Harold 
was able to sit up. The new arrival first gave atten- 
tion to his sister, who was in a state bordering on col- 
lapse, and then the two men landed the little fleet on 
the beach below. Mabel soon recovered consciousness, 
and after a short while all started on their way to the 
village in Harold’s boat, which was the largest, leav- 
ing the others there for the time. One of the oars 
from the girls’ boat was found in an eddy near by, and 
with an oar in the hands of each of the young men, 
the journey was soon made. Both girls suffered some- 
( what from the nervous shock, but no serious results fol- 
lowed. 

They had taken a notion that afternoon to have a 
boat ride. Both could row a little, and each handled 
an oar on this occasion. They had no thought of going 
down near enough to the swift water of Bridendall to 
be in danger, but had not properly estimated the rapid- 


Sim Greene. 


163 


ity of the current in the rising river. In the midst 
of their rowing and animated chatter Miss Sample, 
who was not very dexterous with the oar, missed a 
stroke and fell back in the skiff, to the great amusement 
of both girls, who shouted with merry laughter. In 
Alice’s merriment the oar slipped from her hands and 
into the water. Mabel sprang up and sought to reach 
it with her oar. It was just then that they realized that 
their skiff was drifting rapidly and getting within the 
influence of the swifter water below. Mabel found 
that she had to reach the full length of her oar to touch 
the other one, and to accomplish it better put her foot- 
on the edge of the skiff. The girl’s act, in her eager- 
ness to regain the oar and get their downward progress 
checked, so far depressed the side of the little vessel 
that she lost her balance and fell into the water. It 
was her companion who screamed and thus first made 
Harold aware of the situation. The little boat righted 
its position when Mabel fell, and she soon caught hold 
of its side, but would not attempt to climb in for fear 
of overturning it. She lost her oar when she fell, so 
they were utterly helpless, and would certainly have 
been carried on the rocks had not Harold made his gal- 
lant rescue. 

Young Sample, learning shortly after their departure 
that the girls had taken the boat, and being uneasy for 
their safety because of the increasing current in the 
rising river, had immediately secured a canoe and 
started after them. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


TOM THE TINKER. 

I F Harold had permitted it he would have been 
made the hero of the hour, when his exploit be- 
came known. But he shrank from anything like 
notoriety, and seemed really distressed when his friends 
and neighbors persisted in dwelling on his heroism, his 
feat of great physical strength and endurance and the 
risk he voluntarily took to save the lives of others. He 
said it was nothing more than any man ought to have 
done under the circumstances, and he would have been 
ashamed of himself forever if he had not undertaken it. 

His embarrassment was increased when the girls sent 
for him the next day and warmly thanked him for their 
rescue. He had almost to be dragged into their pres- 
ence. Alice was the more voluble in the expression of 
her high sense of his heroism and in her thanks “ for 
her life,” as she expressed it, to his evident distress. 
Mabel, who knew him better, was content with thanking 
him simply, but most earnestly. She was graver than 
usual, and after this he detected a slight change in her 
demeanor towards him. Sometimes her mischievous 
spirit had prompted her to tease him a little, but now 
this ceased, and in its place there was a certain some- 
thing which he could hardly define. It had in it a 
slight shyness of him at times, and a trace of something 
which was almost tender in certain of her moods. But 
at most times she was still her old self, her nature par- 
164 


Sim Greene. 


165 


taking much of that of care-free, rollicking childhood. 

How, it might be thought that such a manifestation 
as has been noted, caught by the quick eye of a lover, 
would be hailed with delight by him. But it was not 
so with Harold. On the contrary, it was the more de- 
pressing to him, for two reasons. In the first place, in 
the thought that he could not offer her marriage, any 
suspicion that she might have more than a passing inter- 
est in him was tantalizing, and his high sense of honor 
forbade the enlisting of her affections. In the second 
place, he was haunted by the thought that gratitude 
might now influence her to show an interest in him that 
she did not feel in her heart, for, though he had never 
avowed his love, he thought it could hardly be that she 
had not divined it. 

With these conflicting emotions he was soon thor- 
oughly miserable. He tried avoiding her for a time, 
but at this she was so evidently surprised and grieved 
that when she took him to task about it his heart smote 
him. He replied by saying that he was worried about 
things at home. This was the first time he had ever 
alluded to that matter to her, and she had never ven- 
tured to introduce the subject, knowing his sensitiveness 
concerning it. If he had now frankly avowed all that 
was in his heart he would have found a warm sympathy 
which would have been a great help to him in bearing 
the things of the present, and would have prevented 
much of suffering for both of them in the future. But, 
instead, he hastily passed to other things, shrinking from 
uncovering the skeleton in his closet. 

However, he did not try longer to avoid Mabel, who 
after that interview showed him greater consideration 
than ever. Her tender heart sympathized deeply with 


166 


Sim Greene. 


what she read in his heart, however much that might 
have been. The result was that when with her, for- 
getting all else, he revelled in a great happiness, but 
when alone with his thoughts, he was more deeply mis- 
erable than ever. 

The Samples also complicated the situation somewhat 
while they remained. Alice embarrassed him not a 
little by alluding in some way to the occurrence at 
Bridendall almost every time they met. He was never 
allowed to forget that but for him she probably would 
have been drowned, and she continued to be effusive in 
her thanks. She evinced a great liking for his com- 
pany, and at times tried to monopolize it. She was, 
to tell the whole truth, considerably interested in the 
stalwart young boat builder. 

Her brother already had fallen under the spell of 
Mabel’s charm, observing which, Alice did all she could 
to help matters along, both by managing to have them 
thrown together as much as possible, and by frequently 
singing his praises in Mabel’s ears when the two girls 
were alone together. She surmised that Harold’s in- 
terest in her new acquaintance was more than that of a 
friend only, and resolved to watch matters closely. 
Thus there was some playing at cross purposes, and 
Harold’s peace of mind was not enhanced thereby. But 
there was no change observable in Mabel, who after 
prolonging her visit a week following the occurrence at 
Bridendall, returned to her home. The Samples soon 
after went to their home, but not until, on Mabel’s cor- 
dial invitation, they had spent a day with the Codings. 
Harold was included in the invitation also, but did not 
find it convenient at the time to accept. 

The year 1793 passed with nothing gained by the 


Sim Greene. 


167 


government in its effort to secure compliance with the 
excise law in the western counties. True it is that a 
few law-abiding men registered their stills, gave the 
amount in gallons of their distillation and had their 
casks gauged and branded, but they soon found them- 
selves the targets of a secret and undiscoverable enemy 
whose acts of reprisal included the damaging of their 
stills and sometimes the destruction of distilleries and 
barns. Usually these measures were preceded by warn- 
ings, but in some cases they were not. The magistrates 
— such of them as were not actively enlisted in the 
movement against the enforcement of the law — as- 
serted that the laws could not be executed so as to afford 
protection, owing to the too general combination of the 
people in western Pennsylvania to oppose the revenue 
laws. 

It appeared now, indeed, that there must be some 
powerful secret organization at work, but all effort to 
locate and investigate it resulted only in the mystifica- 
tion and embarrassment of the investigator, if it did 
not bring the vengeance of the hidden hand upon him 
in the destruction of his property. 

This was the state of affairs when the fateful year 
1794 opened. There was a grim determination on both 
sides not to yield. The servants of the government felt 
that a policy of forbearance and conciliation for three 
years, without any result other than a more dogged and 
determined resistance, called for a strenuous and impar- 
tial enforcement of the law, and the orders to that effect 
went forth. The disaffected distillers and their sup- 
porters, who comprised vastly the greater part of the 
population of the western counties, thought they had 
their fight practically won, and were the more deter- 


168 


Sim Greene. 


mined to hold out to the bitter end. In that condition 
of things it was almost inevitable that a clash much 
more serious than anything that had gone before should 
come. 

The determination of the government was announced 
in the district of the most stubborn resistance — W ash- 
ington and Allegheny counties — by a public notice 
over the signature of the collector, published in the 
Pittsburgh Gazette and posted throughout the district. 
This recited that whereas a number of distillers had not 
entered their stills according to law, suits would be 
brought and seizures be made against all who should 
continue to fail in their compliance with the enactment. 
This brought about compliance on the part of a few 
distillers who previously had been holding out, whereat 
the disaffected were greatly enraged, and their reprisals 
were now directed against these, whom they declared to 
be traitors to the cause. 

The hotbed of rebellion from the first had been in the 
region of country adjacent to Mingo and Peters creeks, 
near the line separating Allegheny and Washington 
counties, and that section now became the main center 
of disturbance. Sim, who had been on a hunting expe- 
dition in that neighborhood for a few days, brought par- 
ticulars of the latest outbreaks there. In recounting 
these, he said : 

“ You mind that crazy schoolmaster that thought he 
wuz an exciseman abaout three year ago, an’ wuz a-goin J 
raound, askin’ abaout stills an’ things ? You know they 
tuk him aout uv his bed an’ drug him abaout five mile 
to a blacksmith shop, where they stripped him, burnt 
him with hot irons, tarred an’ feathered him, an’ then 
turned him loose in the middle uv the night. Waal, 


Sim Greene. 


1G9 


they blamed Bill Richmond fur peachin’ on ’em, an’ 
t’other night his barn, with all his hay an’ grain, went 
up in smoke. The next night Bob S-trawhan’s barn 
went the same way ’cause he went before the collector 
an’ entered his still. An’ Jim Kiddoo an’ Bill Cochran 
got little billy-ducks, tellin’ ’em they’d better look aout, 
or they’d get some uv the same kind uv medicine. 
Them’s only some uv the highdoodlements that’s bein’, 
carried on over there. Guess somebody’ll be a-doin’ 
things from t’other side uv the maountains purty soon. 
I don’t reckon Gener’l Washington ’ll stand for that 
sort uv thing much longer.” 

The fact is there was now practically a reign of ter- 
ror in the district referred to, and it soon spread to 
other parts of the disaffected region, with greater or 
less rigor according to locality. Men were made to de- 
clare themselves, and any act or expression of submis- 
sion to the government brought persecution in some 
form to the one thus offending. Only a few were brave 
enough to stand out against this assumption of the right 
to judge and punish, and the duly constituted machin- 
ery of justice in the region was wholly inadequate to 
protect these in their rights, so they became the special 
targets of the insurgents, and were made to feel heavily 
the hand of persecution. 

It was just at this time, too, that organizations pat- 
terned after the Jacobin Clubs of the French Revolu- 
tion sprang into being. The declaration of the Rights 
of Man had exerted a powerful influence in all the 
troubles over the excise in this region, in the period 
under consideration, and the mission of Genet, just at 
this time, seemed to bear fruit in the formation of these 
organizations. Those who joined them became “ citi- 


170 Sim Greene. 

zens,” rather than members, and their meetings were 
secret. 

One of the earliest of these organizations to be formed 
was the Mingo Creek Society, its membership including 
nearly the whole strength of the local battalion of mi- 
litia. Its president was Benjamin Parkinson. Other 
like societies were quickly organized elsewhere in the 
region, and they were in constant communication each 
with the others. 

At this time also came on the scene a certain mys- 
terious personage known as “ Tom the Tinker.” The 
name was first used attached to a notice of warning to 
William Cochran, who was one of the men referred to 
by Sim. But it was frequently heard after that and 
soon it became the rallying cry of the insurgents, and 
they were proud to be called Tom the Tinker’s men. 
Cochran was a man of some wealth and considerable in- 
fluence. He had a distillery, a saw-mill and a grist- 
mill at the place still known as Cochran’s Mills. At 
different times essential parts of the two mills, which it 
was impossible to replace without sending to the East, 
were carried away. Finally came a notice, signed Tom 
the Tinker, that unless he came out in opposition to the 
excise law the Tinker would make him a call and 
“ mend his still.” Cochran was a man of unusual 
nerve, and he refused to submit to such dictation. The 
result was that a few nights after the receipt of the 
notice his still was “ mended ” by the shooting of a 
number of bullets through it. The rude joke caught 
the popular fancy, and from that time Tom the Tinker 
was frequently heard from and more frequently heard 
of. 

His usual mode of procedure, when he wished to dis- 


Sim Greene. 


171 


seminate his instructions, was to send the document to 
the Pittsburgh Gazette, with notice to the editor that if 
it failed to appear in the next succeeding issue of the 
paper Tom would pay his respects to the office of the 
newspaper in person. The editor did not dare to refuse 
compliance, and the notices duly appeared. A notice 
to an individual was posted on his house in the night, 
and frequently was coupled with instructions to him to 
send it to the newspaper for publication, that Tom 
might be assured he had received it. Failure to comply 
promptly was inevitably followed by trouble to the re- 
cipient. The style of these missives, though rather un- 
couth, indicated some ability on the part of the writer 
and some acquaintance with legal forms. 


CHAPTER XX. 


IN THE SHADOW. 

T HAT spring Mary made a visit of some days to 
Mrs. Bayard. I saw her but briefly and infre- 
quently on this occasion, for most of the time 
the two women were closeted together, busied, as Mrs. 
Bayard explained to me with a smile, with some sew- 
ing. When I did get to see her I felt that somehow 
there was a change in her demeanor towards me. Hot 
but that she was kind and considerate as ever, but there 
was a slight restraint that I had never before observed 
in her, and a certain embarrassment wholly lacking in 
the Mary I had always known. On the few occasions 
when we were alone together she seemed ill at ease and 
talked almost incessantly. 

To account for this my jealous fears at once sug- 
gested Major McFarlane and all I had been hearing 
concerning his attentions to her. It was true, then, that 
he was her accepted lover. I could not doubt that she 
had read my passion, though I had been careful not to 
avow it. She was fearful now that I would speak, and 
was exerting herself to prevent it, to save both of us the 
pain and embarrassment consequent on her necessary 
refusal of such a proposal under the circumstances. 
That was the way I reasoned it out, and it was all very 
plain to me, yet I resolved, at any cost now, to know 
the truth from her lips. 

I am afraid I hated the man for a time when this 
172 


Sim Greene. 


173 


was fully borne in upon me, but I am glad that soon 
my better nature asserted itself, and I tried to look at 
the matter with some calmness and reason, though it 
was with a dull pain in my heart all the while. I w T as 
in no position to marry, nor, under the existing circum- 
stances, could I hope to be for an indefinite time in the 
future. On the other hand, Major McFarlane was well 
off in this world’s goods, could give his bride a good 
home and all its accessories, and, so far as I had ever 
heard, was an honorable gentleman. On any of these 
considerations there was no good reason why she should 
not marry him, if she loved him. Ah ! there was the 
pain of it to me. If she loved him! I could hardly 
doubt it now, but if true it seemed to me the joy would 
all be gone out of life for me. I knew her too well to 
think for one moment that mercenary motives would in- 
fluence her decision. Her hand would never be given 
where her heart did not go. 

That thought decided me. I would tell her my love 
and if, as I feared, I was forestalled in her affections, I 
would go through life with a certain joy in having 
known what it was to love a good woman and in the 
belief that happiness was the portion of the object of 
that love. For a love that is unselfish has its highest 
delight in the joy of its object. If it should be that I 
was in error and her heart was not engaged, I would 
seek to win it, and I knew if I could gain her love she 
would wait until such time as I could marry, and would 
honor me because of the reason which made a postpone- 
ment necessary. 

Her stay this time was brief, and I did not get the 
desired opportunity while she was in the home of the 
Bayards, but I was firmly resolved to make an oppor- 


174 


Sim Greene. 


tunity, and when she announced her intention of return- 
ing home I said I would accompany her. She had 
never before demurred at such a proposal, but always 
had seemed glad to have me go. Now, however, she 
said that would be asking too much when I was so busy, 
and she could not think of troubling me to go when she 
could so easily make the trip alone; she was used to 
riding all over the country unattended. I replied by 
telling her she ought not to ride alone in such times of 
excitement and passion, and as it was Saturday after- 
noon and there was nothing to detain me at home I 
would do what I much preferred to do by going with 
her, unless she positively forbade it. 

“ Of course, under those circumstances, I will not 
offer any further objections, David. You know we 
have always liked to have you come to see us,” she said, 
with a slight heightening of color. “ But I still main- 
tain that I am not afraid and think there is no danger.” 

Mrs. Bayard, who was present, thought otherwise, 
and commended the arrangement proposed by me, so 
nothing more was said on the matter, and we were soon 
off. I never knew any woman who was a better rider 
and more fond of horseback riding than Mary. It was 
one thing which aroused her enthusiasm. So quiet and 
reserved usually, she seemed to give free rein to all the 
animal spirit within her when in the saddle, and usu- 
ally, when riding alone, went at a gallop. She sat 
superbly on a horse, and always rode a good one. This 
day I remarked that her mount was a splendid creature 
that I had never seen before. 

“ Yes, he is a gift,” she said, and the color mounted 
swiftly to her cheeks, though I knew she tried to repress 
any evidence of her feeling. She continued rapidly: 


Sim Greene. 


175 


“ Prince is a beautiful fellow, and as good as he is beau- 
tiful. He is full of life, but is gentleness itself. Just 
see how he can go,” and giving him the rein, she sped 
away up the road, leaving me to amble along in pursuit. 

We were on the river road above the village, and she 
never drew rein until she reached McFarlane’s ferry, 
two miles above. I was not far behind her, and as I 
drew up I remarked, I am afraid a little dryly : 

“ He has fine speed, indeed.” 

John Walker ferried us over. When he had the flat 
well under way on the bosom of the river and was pass- 
ing us, with the end of the long pole with which it was 
propelled against his shoulder, he said, as if in answer 
to something he thought would be in her mind : 

“ The Major is not here to-day. He has gone to a 
meeting at the Mingo meeting-house. He said to tell 
you, if you passed here to-day, that he would call at 
your home this evening.” 

She made no reply except to thank him, but I knew 
the color in her cheeks then was not all due to her rapid 
ride. Leaving the ferry, I was turning into the broad 
road up the hollow there, which was the only way I had 
ever gone to the Mingo region, when Mary said : 

“ Let us go the other way. It is a little nearer and 
is more beautiful. Have you ever gone that way ? ” 

I said I had not and would be glad to learn the new 
way. My heart was treading a new way now — truly 
a road of sorrow, for I no longer had any doubt of the 
state of affairs between Mary and the Major. I had 
meant to tell her all that was in my heart before reach- 
ing the ferry, in the fear that he would be there and I 
should have no other opportunity. I heard of his ab- 
sence with pleasure at first, but what followed seemed to 


176 


Sim Greene. 


set the seal on what I had more than half believed be- 
fore, and now I hardly knew what course to pursue. 
Should I still do what I had resolved, only to invite the 
humiliation of a refusal, with its pain to both of us, or 
should I accept the inevitable in silence and go my way, 
carrying my sorrow in the secret recesses of my heart % 

I was not allowed to brood long over these things, for 
Mary, riding now by my side, kept up a constant flow 
of conversation, passing rapidly from one topic to an- 
other. I had never known her to be so talkative before. 
Finally she said : 

“ And you think it imprudent for a woman to ride 
these roads alone, even by day, in these times \ ” 

I could do nothing else than stand by the position I 
had taken, and said so. 

“ Well, the men who are engaged in resistance to the 
excise, that I know, are incapable of harm to any 
woman. Rather would they fly to her relief and resent 
any imputation on her honor.” 

This was said a little proudly and even defiantly, I 
thought, and she continued : 

“ Do not understand that I approve of the position 
taken by those in opposition to the government. It is 
all wrong. It is dreadful, no matter what the hardship 
of submission. I have told — I — I mean I have said 
repeatedly that the position of the Tinker’s men, as they 
are called, is wrong, and I am sure some dreadful thing 
will come of it all. Oh, I know there will ! ” she said, 
impetuously. “ But the people thus engaged are our 
neighbors all about us. My father is on that side. 
They think they are right and that they are justified 
in the position they have taken.” 

Tears were in her eyes, and her bosom was heaving 


Sim Greene. 


177 


with the emotion called up by her words, and perhaps 
more by her unexpressed thoughts. 

“ Of course I do not class your father with those who 
would be a menace to any woman, under any circum- 
stances, Mary/’ I hastened to reply. “ He is an honest 
man and a gentleman, and in the same class I put Major 
McF'arlane and many others that we know so well.” 

It cost me an effort to say that name, and she looked 
at me quickly and I thought gratefully, as though in 
appreciation of the fact that I understood and would 
accept the situation as I found it. 

“ But,” I continued, “ there are many in this country 
who are not restrained by any sense of right or honor, 
and the example of such men as I have mentioned em- 
boldens these to the commission of acts such as have 
disgraced our neighborhood of late. I cannot conceive 
of your father, for instance, putting the brand to a 
neighbor’s barn in the night or tarring and feathering 
one who differs from him. But he and those with him 
are in the wrong, and every man is responsible for his 
influence.” 

“ Yes, I have told them so,” she said, simply. 

We had now covered the distance to be traversed 
along the river, and the way lay up a narrow ravine, 
densely wooded. I thought I saw now why she had 
brought me that way. The road soon narrowed to a 
mere bridle path, skirting along the side of the hill, so 
that but one could go at a time, and she took the lead. 
I am passionately fond of nature in her wilder moods, 
and would have revelled in the scenery around me had 
I been in a different frame of mind. Great forest trees 
stood on the hillsides and the air of an early July day 
was stirring their leaves in a gentle rustle. Tangled 
12 


178 


Sim Greene. 


vines laced them together here and there, and flowering 
vines nodded to us as we passed. Below us damp moss 
thickly covered rocks and fallen wood, and long, droop- 
ing ferns hemmed in the little stream, still swelled by a 
rain of the day before, as it went babbling along over 
the stones, adding its bass monotone to the chorus of 
joy pouring from feathered throats in the branches 
above. A squirrel was saucily barking his disapproval 
of our intrusion, and far away on the heights beyond a 
lot of noisy crows were disputing in their harsh tones. 

Mary had given Prince the rein and the noble animal 
was going up the slope with long bounds. I had re- 
solved to remain silent, but now was seized with a great 
longing to tell my story of love. It seemed to me that 
she was being borne away from me by some force that 
I ought to combat, and would slip out of my life if I 
did not reach forth and restrain her flight. Yes, I 
would tell her! I whipped up, and my horse went 
bounding away in pursuit. I soon came up with her 
where she had reined up on a little level spot and was 
pointing to the scene below. 

“ I never could pass this spot without stopping to 
exult in its beauty,” she exclaimed. “ Isn’t it charm- 
ing ? ” 

“ It is, indeed,” I replied, and so it was. A thick 
limestone formation jutted out in a wall across the 
gorge, its horizontal stratification exposed for a height 
of probably thirty feet, while below it a shale formation 
had crumbled away until the rock hung out over the 
depths below, supported only as it was attached in the 
earth behind. Over this the sportive stream plunged, 
its first leap being but a few feet, when it struck a flat 
projection extending out still farther, and this broke 


Sim Greene. 


179 


and spread it into a wide sheet of water which fell in a 
myriad of crystal drops to the shadowy depths below, 
hanging as a curtain in front of the recess under the 
rocks. 

The path here widened, and I drew up alongside of 
her. For a time we gazed in silence at the beautiful 
cascade, and then my eyes rested on my companion. I 
had never seen her so lovely as she now appeared. The 
rich, warm color was in her cheeks and the light in her 
eyes which a brisk ride always brought. She sat her 
horse as though a portion of him, and he had his part in 
the picture as he stood with arched neck and distended 
nostrils, breathing audibly from his exertion in mount- 
ing the hill. A ray of sunshine was filtering down 
through the foliage and resting on her, reflecting the 
glory of a bright red vine which enwreathed a great tree 
in front of us. On the ground, at the edge of a damp 
spot in the road, two yellow butterflies sat close to- 
gether and seemed to whisper to one another of love. 
Suddenly Prince raised his foot and stamped in impa- 
tient protest at a fly which had fastened itself on his 
leg, and it came down on one of the delicate creatures, 
crushing it in a shapeless mass in the mire, while its 
mate gaily fluttered away. It seemed an ill omen, and 
I saw in the luckless insect a representation of my un- 
happy self, while the one which flew away seemed to 
typify the lovely girl by my side. But I determined 
to speak, and looked up for that purpose when the 
sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard, and the next mo- 
ment a man came into view, riding briskly down the 
path. It was Major McFarlane ! 

There was an awkward moment when he had drawn 
rein and we men had exchanged greetings, which I fear 


180 


Sim Greene. 


were a little stiff. All felt uncomfortable, I am sure. 
Then Mary was the first to speak, addressing the new- 
comer, and saying: 

“ Mr. David Froman was kind enough to ride along 
with me, and we had stopped to admire the cascade. I 
have never before seen it with so much water running 
over it. Isn’t it beautiful ? ” 

“ Ay, it’s fair enow,” was all the reply vouchsafed 
by the Major. 

The situation seemed to be becoming more strained, 
so I said : 

“ I presume you were coming to meet Miss Colling, 
Major, to offer her an escort through these lonely paths. 
It was my judgment that she should have such an es- 
cort, and I insisted on accompanying her. But now 
that I am able to deliver her into your hands, with her 
permission I will relinquish my charge. The indica- 
tions are that yesterday’s rain is to be repeated this 
evening, and that I will not have more than sufficient 
time to get home before it begins. I wish you both a 
good evening.” 

I raised my hat and wheeled my horse. The Major 
was a gentleman, and he now thanked me, though I still 
thought his tone was not very cordial. Mary gave me 
a look in which was expressed much feeling, but which 
I could not wholly analyze. I thought it had in it 
gratefulness and sympathy. She murmured “ Good 
bye,” and I moved off, leaving them in the path. So 
we parted, and I went to my home with a great void in 
my heart, and the future to me looked blacker than the 
clouds which were piling up in the west and from which 
a dismal shower began to fall ere I reached the village. 

As I rode I was torn by conflicting emotions. Had 


Sim Greene., 


181 


I shown weakness in thus deserting the field and leaving 
the prize in possession of a favored rival ? At times I 
was ready to curse myself for doing so. Perhaps my 
readers will take this view, and be disappointed in me 
that I did not act the part of the heroic lover and im- 
petuously bear the prize away, as they do in novels. 
But if so, they do not know Mary as I knew her — and 
I am writing history. I felt down in my heart that I 
had done what she wanted me to do, and her wish was 
law with me. 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE FIRST BLOODSHED. 

T HE days that followed were filled with stirring 
events. Whenever men were gathered together 
the topic of conversation was sure to be the 
crisis which all felt was impending. A number of pub- 
lic meetings were held throughout the disaffected re- 
gion at which local orators urged the people to be firm 
in their resistance to the enforcement of the excise law, 
and assured them that the government would never re- 
sort to extreme measures if the people of the western 
country would show no sign of weakening. One of the 
greatest of these gatherings was on the occasion of the 
Fourth of July muster at Mingo meeting-house, when 
not only the whole regiment, but almost all of the people 
for miles around, were present. Some of the speeches 
delivered were highly incendiary, and the people were 
greatly wrought up. 

The excitement was intensified when, a few days 
later, it was announced that Major David Lenox, a 
United States Marshal (or Federal Sheriff, as the office 
was more generally designated by these people), had 
been sent into the western country to serve warrants on 
those distillers who had failed to comply with the law 
requiring them to register their stills and on a few who 
had been concerned in riots in which property of the 
collectors was destroyed. These cited them to appear 
before the United States court in Philadelphia and there 
182 


Sim Greene. 


183 


answer the charges against them. The Marshal had 
gone about the several counties, serving these writs on 
those to whom they were addressed, and, as it after- 
wards appeared, it was the very last of them in his 
hands that occasioned the clash which was followed by 
consequences so dire. 

William Miller was a farmer and distiller who lived 
in the valley of Peters creek. To get his harvest work 
done quickly he made a “ bee,” and invited a number of 
his friends and neighbors to assemble and help him. 
These occasions did not really require a formal invita- 
tion, it being understood that any who would come and 
help, on the announcement being made, would be wel- 
come. Among those who went was J ohn Harden. He 
had reached the point where his services were no longer 
wanted about the boat-yards, for his habits made him 
more of a nuisance than a help. But when he heard of 
such gatherings as these, anywhere about the country, 
he was sure to be there. Plenty of liquor was provided, 
and no absolute requirement was exacted that he should 
work more than he cared to. That was the kind of 
a job that exactly suited him. 

It happened that the Marshal appeared, to serve his 
writ on Miller, who was one of the delinquents, on the 
afternoon of the same day that this gathering took place. 
About thirty men were at work in the field, and they 
had the work nearly completed when the officer rode up. 

„ For some reason he had asked the Inspector, General 
Hevill, to accompany him on this occasion, and the two 
men came together. The sight of the Inspector brought 
scowls to the faces of the men, and muttering was heard 
among them as the Marshal was reading his paper. 
Miller flew into a towering rage, and swore it was bad 


184 


Sim Greene. 


enough to be thrown into the expense of a fine of two 
hundred dollars and the cost of a trip to Philadelphia, 
which would probably ruin him and beggar his family, 
without having to stand seeing the Federal Sheriff 
piloted to his very door by the man he had always be- 
friended and supported when he was a candidate for 
office. Other men now spoke up angrily in support of 
Miller’s position, and the scene began to take on a 
threatening aspect for the two officials. The object of 
their mission being accomplished, they discreetly turned 
their horses and rode off. 

The jug had been circulated freely among the party 
of workers, and this did not tend to render them the 
more fit to hold themselves under control. An excit- 
ing scene followed the departure of the officers. All 
were talking at once and gesticulating wildly. In a 
slight lull one of the men, named William Hanna, ex- 
claimed : 

“ It’s a cursed outrage, and they hadn’t ought to be 
allowed to get away. Let’s try to head ’em off ! ” 

There was instant assent to this. Hanna had 
brought his gun with him, intending to do some hunt- 
ing on his way home. Running to where he had laid 
it, he caught it up and started off on a run across the 
field, the rest following him like a pack of hounds in 
pursuit of a fox. Miller’s private lane formed a right 
angle with the public road, and the Marshal and In- 
spector had just reached that point. The crowd was 
trying to gain the road in advance of them by cutting 
diagonally across the field, but failed in this purpose, 
for they came out on it in a piece of woodland just 
after the two horsemen had trotted past. With an 
oath Hanna hastily sighted and fired at their retreating 


Sim Greene. 


185 


forms, but his shot did not take effect, and the two men 
disappeared from view, followed by a chorus of threats 
and imprecations. 

There was no more work done that day at Miller’s. 
Somebody recalled the fact that there was a meeting 
of Hamilton’s regiment of the militia at the Mingo 
meeting-house that day. It had been called in con- 
nection with a recent act of Congress which required 
the enrolling of eighty thousand men throughout the 
country, to be held in readiness for military duty for 
the nation. The Mingo regiment was trying to deter- 
mine whether or not its quota could be raised without 
a draft. With full knowledge that this regiment and 
the Society made up almost wholly of its membership 
was the backbone of resistance to the collection of the 
excise, it was proposed that this meeting should be ap- 
prised of the occurrence at Miller’s. The proposition 
met with favor, and soon almost the whole company 
was on the road to Mingo, which was only a few miles 
away. 

The men arrived just about the time the meeting 
had concluded its business and was ready to adjourn. 
The announcement created intense excitement among 
the militiamen, a number of whom had their guns with 
them. As the excited men from Miller’s told the 
story, the two officers had been insolent to an exasper- 
ating degree. There was a proposition to start at once 
for General Nevill’s house, where they were supposed 
to be, and take summary vengeance on them, but the 
counsel of cooler heads prevailed. The officers, 
especially Colonel Hamilton and Major McFarlane, 
labored to restrain the excited men. The meeting 


186 


Sim Greene. 


finally broke up without any action being taken, and 
most of the men departed for their homes. 

But a number lingered about, and these resolved to 
take matters into their own hands. Accordingly the 
early part of the night was spent in preparations, and 
about midnight a party of thirty-six, besides the leader, 
set forth for the Nevill residence, twelve miles away. 
John Hollcroft commanded the expedition. They 
covered the intervening distance during the hours of 
darkness, and reached the Nevill place shortly after 
daybreak. 

General Nevill’s plantation was on Chartiers creek, 
about seven miles from Pittsburgh, and the house was 
on an eminence commanding a fine view of the valley 
and surrounding country. The mansion was large and 
a very elegant one for those days. Near it were the farm 
outbuildings and at one side were the negro quarters, 
the General being the owner of a large number of slaves. 
It came to be known afterwards that frequently in the 
preceding months word had been carried to him of a 
plot by certain members of the Mingo Society to at- 
tack his house, and for some time he had been in con- 
stant readiness to repel this, having fitted heavy plank 
shutters containing port-holes to the windows of the 
house and stocked it with arms and ammunition, as 
well as supplying his negroes with arms and instruct- 
ing them in their use. Whether there had been such 
a plot before or not, it was soon demonstrated that he 
was ready for such an attack if one should come. 

Instead of stopping there the evening before, Mar- 
shal Lenox had ridden on into Pittsburgh. General 
Nev ill was up early that morning, intending to go to 
the same place, when someone perceived the approach- 


Sim Greene. 


187 


ing crowd and told him of it. The result was he was 
fully prepared for the men when they drew near. The 
doors were bolted and barred and the heavy shutters 
were all closed. 

dust at this moment a man came around the house 
from the rear, and seeing the men drawn up in front 
of it, approached them. There was not a person in the 
party who was not thoroughly astonished to recog- 
nize in his features and form, Harold Harden. He 
carried a rifle across his arm, and was accoutered for 
the chase, though he did not wear the dress in which 
all had seen him so often, but was somewhat jauntily 
attired in “ store clothes,” as any better garb than 
that of the buckskin and homespun usually seen was 
called. It was generally understood that Harold did 
not approve of the forcible resistance to the excise, and 
he was not held in favor on that account by those who 
did. He and his father had differed on the matter 
when they had talked of it. But nobody was pre- 
pared to believe that he had been in conference with 
and probably in the confidence of the hated Nevill until 
now. Yet here he was, coming from the house, as 
they had no doubt, from a rear entrance. 

As a result of his frequent potations of the day and 
night before John Harden was not possessed of the 
full use of his faculties, and he seemed to be aware 
of it, for he rubbed his eyes and stared at his son as 
if he could not believe what his vision told him. 
Finally he burst out with: 

“ What are you doin’ ’ere?” with an oath to give 
emphasis to the interrogatory. 

The young man looked at him in a surprised way 
without making any reply. 


188 


Sim Greene. 


u I say, what are you doin’ ’ere, ’obnobbin’ with that 
old skunk of a Hevill? Things ’s come to a pretty 
pass when one of your raisin’ becomes a traitor and 
goes hover, body and breeches, to the hexise gang. 
’Spose they’re the ones that’s fitted you hout with them 
fine duds, hey ? ” 

“ See here, old man, what’s the matter with you ? ” 
exclaimed the youth, approaching his parent with a 
threatening gesture. “ What are you blathering about, 
anyhow ? ” 

He seemed about to strike the old man, but then, 
as if just becoming aware of his condition, he said, 
“ Oh, you’re drunk, and not worth minding.” Then 
turning to the others, he said: 

u What’s the row, and where did you all come from 
so early in the morning ? ” 

The language and whole behavior of the young man 
were so foreign to anything that any in the crowd had 
ever known in Harold Harden that they were at a loss 
to account for it. They might have thought that he, 
like his father, was under the influence of liquor, had 
it not been so well known that he was the one young 
man in that region at the time who was a total ab- 
stainer from intoxicants. Was he acting a part, to 
divert their minds from the suspicious circumstances 
of his coming apparently from the Nevill house at such 
a time, or how should they account for his strange 
actions and words ? 

Before any had time to turn these things over in 
their minds or make reply to his query, diversion came 
from another quarter, and speedily they had other 
things to think of. The front door was thrown open 
and the form of General Nevill appeared there. After 


Sim Greene. 


189 


surveying them in silence a moment, he demanded to 
know the purpose of their visit. Hollcroft at first 
made an evasive answer, but the General, who was now 
seen to have a gun in his hand, demanded that there 
be no temporizing, but a declaration of why a body of 
armed men came at that hour against a citizen in his 
own house. 

“ He’s no Citizen,” spoke up one of the men, who 
evidently had the Society in mind. But Hollcroft 
now stated their object to he a demand that General 
Kevill give up to them his commission as Inspector of 
Revenue and all his official documents pertaining 
thereto. It was delivered by Hollcroft with some 
pomp, and in his broadest Lancashire dialect. The 
doughty old warrior, with a look of withering scorn, 
declared he would never accede to any such demand, 
and then retired and closed the door with a bang. 

It has always been a disputed point who fired the 
first shot and whether it came from within or. outside 
the house, hut in a moment later the firing was general 
on both sides. Soon there was heard a blast blown 
on a horn in the mansion. This was evidently a pre- 
arranged signal, for it was followed by a volley poured 
in on the flank of the assaulting party from the negro 
cabins. Six of the men fell, but five of them got up 
again and limped off after the unhurt of the party, who 
were now withdrawing from the siege. In the con- 
fusion young Harden disappeared, and was not seen 
again that day by any of the party. 

The Tinker’s men, rendered furious by their repulse 
and the shedding of blood, now marched painfully 
towards the Mingo region, for their wounded could not 
get along very fast, and some of them had to be helped. 


190 


Sim Greene. 


They had gone some distance before it occurred to any- 
body to take an accounting and see if all were present. 
Thirty-seven had started out that morning on the expe- 
dition, but only thirty-six were returning. Of those 
wounded, each had been so intent on getting off the 
field that he did not notice who, if any, had been left 
behind, and the withdrawal of the unhurt had been so 
precipitate, following the volley from the negro cabins, 
that none o*f them knew who had been left. It was 
soon ascertained that John Harden was the missing 
man of their number. Some proposed that they go 
back and see what had become of him, but this was over- 
ruled on the ground that the wounded among them 
were in need of attention which could not be given them 
on the road. 

“ ’Is soohn ’ll look awfter ’im,” said John Hollcroft. 
“ An’ I ta-ak it ’e’s noothink woorse off than dead 
droonk.” 

So they proceeded on their way, telling everybody 
they met of how they had gone to demand the Inspect- 
or’s papers and had been fired on by him and his peo- 
ple, some of them being shot down in their tracks. The 
bleeding wounds of the injured among them gave at- 
testation to the story, and the word spread far and wide, 
arousing the people to a pitch of intense excitement. 
Before midnight it was understood through the whole 
neighborhood that there was to be an assemblage the 
next day for another expedition against the Nevill home 
and revenge was now the motive. All through that 
night couriers rode here and there, arousing the people 
and telling them of what had been done and what was 
to be, and the temper of the people boded no good to 
the Inspector. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE MAECH OH NEVILl’s. 


W ORD of the attack of Tom the Tinker’s men on 
the house of the Inspector and their repulse 
with loss, reached Elizabeth that night, and 
occasioned great excitement there, as elsewhere through- 
out the region. The people of the village had not taken 
much part in the resistance to the excise thus far, be- 
cause, probably, so few of them were directly interested, 
but a number of them were ardent sympathizers with 
the cause, and were now outspoken in their hatred for 
the Inspector and what he stood for. The attitude of 
Colonel Bayard was never uncertain, but he was not a 
man to thrust his opinions offensively on others. He 
said, on being appealed to, that the demonstration 
against the officer representing the government was 
wrong, and could only lead to trouble; that- pursuing 
the matter further would bring more trouble, and ad- 
vised all of his friends to keep out of it. Beyond this 
he was discreetly silent, and would not be drawn into 
an argument by some of the excited people who were 
disposed to discuss the matter further with him. 

Late that night came word that John Harden had 
been of the assailing party and had not been seen or 
heard from since, being the only one unaccounted for. 
One report had it that he was killed. Harold, who had 
been absent from home all day and said he was hunL 
ing, exhibited much concern when he heard this, and 
191 


193 


Sim Greene. 


announced that he was going to search for his father. 
He asked me if I would go with him. I readily se- 
cured the consent of the Colonel, for whom I was then 
working, in the mid-summer vacation, to leave my work 
for the day, and I agreed to accompany him. We 
started in the early morning hours, for we had a long 
walk before us, the Hevill place being about fourteen 
miles distant by the nearest way. 

The road was not the smoothest, but we were both 
used to tramps of that character. We cut across fields 
and woods whenever we could gain in that way. A 
number of times we saw and heard parties of men, 
hurrying along the road and talking loudly, but we 
avoided them, the advice of Colonel Bayard to us hav- 
ing been not to mingle with the crowd that was to assem- 
ble that day and march again on the Inspector’s house. 
Determined, if possible, to perform our mission and 
get away before their arrival, we pushed on. When 
it was daylight we noted that the harvest fields were 
all deserted, and that only women and children were 
seen about the farm houses. 

It was about seven o’clock in the morning when we 
reached the ISTevill place, and we resolved to make a 
search all around for some distance from the house, to 
see if we could find any trace of Mr. Harden, before 
making any appeal there, being somewhat doubtful 
about the wisdom of doing this in any event. We beat 
about in the piece of woodland above the house without 
making any discoveries, and from a point which com- 
manded a view of the cleared fields about the house 
carefully scanned these over, with a like lack of result. 
The General had his harvest largely gathered in, and 
the bare fields of stubble and meadow did not show any 


Sim Greene. 


193 


object that looked like a man’s body. A field of oats 
and one of Indian corn were still standing. We went 
all around the former without finding any trail leading 
into it such as would have been made had a man gone 
among the growing grain, and then traversed the corn 
as well as we could, this extending almost to the house 
on one side. We could not make as effective a search 
of this as we desired to, but were unable to discover 
anything indicating the object of our search in it. 

We then skirted around to a point among the trees 
which grew along the creek, and viewed the fields as 
they stretched above us there. But still we found 
nothing. We then determined to approach the house 
boldly at the front and make inquiry as to the object 
of our search. This had all taken time, and the day 
was now well advanced. We went up through the 
grounds towards the house. Evidently a strict watch 
was being maintained, for we were seen before we 
reached the mansion, and General Hevill himself came 
out on the verandah. He had a gun in his hand, and 
he commanded us to halt where we were. 

“ Who are you and what do you want ? ” he de- 
manded. 

Harold told him our names and briefly explained 
what we had heard and the object of our coming there. 

“ Well,” answered the Inspector, “ I know of nobody 
left here of that mob of yesterday. They all ran as 
fast as their legs could carry them, or were helped by 
their friends. And they had better continue to make 
themselves scarce hereabouts. When you see them 
you may tell them so for me.” Then, observing Harold 
more closely, he exclaimed : “ Why, you were one of 


13 


194 


Sim Greene. 


them yourself, sir ! How dare you come here again in 
this manner I believe you are spies. Be off ! ” 

“ I was not here yesterday, nor near here,” replied 
Harold. 

“ You give me the lie, do you, you impudent young 
jackanapes!” roared the now angry old man, begin- 
ning to flourish his gun in a threatening way and to de- 
scend the steps of his verandah. “ And do you think 
I have lost the use of my eyes and do not know whom 
and what I see ? I saw you when you stood out from 
the rest, the very nearest of the party to the house, and 
couldn’t be in error. How, clear out of here without 
another word, both of you! Ye seem to be unarmed. 
Go before I shoot you down ! ” 

Harold was disposed to remain and see the matter 
out, but I saw that the enraged man was dreadfully in 
earnest and was likely to do what he threatened. 
Others now appeared at various doors and windows, 
including a number of the black people, who were 
armed, like their master. I took Harold by the arm 
and told him of the utter folly of remaining, under the 
circumstances, and half dragged him away. I think 
he saw the force of it, but he had in his eyes the look 
that Colonel Bayard told me of when he whipped Jim 
Wherry. I know he went reluctantly, and that such a 
thing as fear of the angry man with the gun did not 
occur to him. 

General Hevill remained where he was and watched 
us until we regained the strip of woodland along the 
creek, and then returned to the house. We moved 
along a short distance until we gained a thick clump of 
willows into which we passed, with the intention of re- 
maining for a time to take note of what might occur, 


Sim Greene 0 


195 


without being seen either from the house or from the 
road which passed along some distance up the hillside, 
beyond the creek. I had not heard the particulars of 
the attack of the day before, so the dialogue between 
the Inspector and Harold had been inexplicable to me. 
I was now about to ask my companion concerning it, 
when other things took our attention for the time. 

First we caught sight of a squad of soldiers coming 
up the road from the direction of Pittsburgh. They 
were marching rapidly, and with the officer in command 
of the squad was a man in civilian’s clothes, but of un- 
mistakable military bearing. We counted ten men in 
the uniform of United States soldiers besides the sub- 
altern in command. They crossed the creek and 
marched quickly to the mansion on the hill, where they 
were received by General Nevill and shown into the 
house. 

Soon after this the Inspector came out, mounted his 
horse which had been brought around for him, and 
started off by the road over which the soldiers had come. 
We watched these proceedings with a great deal of in- 
terest, and Harold remarked: 

“ They are getting ready to give the Tinker’s men a 
warm reception when they come, and I would not be 
surprised to hear of serious times here before the day 
is over. Don’t you think it would he better now to act 
on Colonel Bayard’s advice and get out of this before 
they come ? I don’t think we can do any more in the 
search for father now, and it may be that he got away 
and went home while we were coming here.” 

I agreed with him that it was time to be getting out 
of that locality. We were about to start when we saw 
a body of men marching down the valley and approach- 


196 


Sim Greene. 


ing the spot where we were concealed. There seemed 
to be a great number of them, and all were armed. 
They were officered and were marching with military 
precision. It was then too late for us to leave our 
place of concealment, if we wished to escape their ob- 
servation, so we decided to remain where we were for 
the present. We could not doubt that this was the 
body of men that had been called together to take ven- 
geance on the Inspector. When they drew nearer we 
recognized many of them. 

They halted at a point almost opposite where we 
were hidden, in plain view of us, but concealed yet from 
the house on the hill by the trees among which they 
still remained. We soon saw that they were telling off 
and posting guards, and from the courses taken by the 
various squads we perceived that a cordon of them was 
being thrown around the Hevill mansion in true mil- 
itary style. If a squad should be left to guard the posi- 
tion we then occupied, it would be impossible for us to 
leave the place without discovery. We thought it 
highly probable that they would not neglect to do this, 
and soon found that we had surmised correctly, for the 
main body began moving up the hillside, still in the 
concealment afforded by the woods, but leaving two men 
to guard the position they had been occupying. How- 
ever unwillingly, we were going to witness the attack, 
for our position commanded an unobstructed view of 
the house. 

That the whole story may be told, we must now go 
back a little in the movements of this army, as I after- 
wards learned them. During the whole night and 
early morning hours excited men gathered in squads at 
the Mingo meeting-house. Eevenge was their cry, and 


Sim Greene. 


197 


at an early hour in the day almost the whole of the regi- 
ment of militia was there. Colonel Hamilton was ab- 
sent, but the gathering included a very large repre- 
sentation of the inferior officers and men, gathered as 
if for a muster. A goodly number who were not of the 
militia also gathered, armed and equipped for the 
march. 

In thus assembling there were many exciting scenes 
by the way. Impressment was made of a number who 
did not show a willingness to volunteer in the enter- 
prise, and they were compelled to go along. Of the 
many stories of this kind told, only one can be repeated 
here. One party coming the night before from the 
interior of Washington county, so as to be at the Mingo 
meeting-house in ample time for the start, stopped at 
the home of William Jones, a stalwart, blacksmith, and 
demanded that he should accompany them. He re- 
fused, and advised them to abandon their lawless 
scheme. They threatened to bum him out if he did 
not do something to show his sympathy for their cause, 
but he was inexorable. His wife, hearing them say 
they needed horses, and fearing they would put their 
threats into execution, went to the stable, brought out 
their old family horse, “ Morgan/’ and delivered it 
to them, when they went on their way. It was a 
queer burden that the old horse was to carry before 
he came back to his stable, but it preserved his name 
to history. The horse itself lived to a very old age, 
and its owner is one of the few actors in those scenes 
still surviving when these lines are being penned.* 

It was a motley assemblage that took the road early 
that morning. Most of the men were mounted, though 

* William Jones died in 1863, aged one hundred years. 


198 


Sim Greene. 


a goodly number were on foot, and they carried all 
•kinds of arms. This contingent made np by far the 
largest part of the force which later in the day made 
the attack on the Hevill mansion, but the place of 
general assemblage was at Couche’s Fort, an old block-, 
house of the days of Indian depredations in that sec- 
tion. This was on their direct road to Nevill’s, and 
four miles from it. Many men joined the party on 
the way. 

Arrived at Couche’s Fort, a considerable number 
w T as found to have assembled there. They now pro- 
ceeded to organize, and the Mingo Society men, being 
greatly in the majority, had no difficulty in controll- 
ing the organization. The first thing was the selec- 
tion of a committee of three to have general direction 
of the expedition. John Hollcroft, Benjamin Par- 
kinson and William Miller were chosen to act in that 
capacity. It then devolved on the committee to desig- 
nate an officer to have immediate command over the 
men. Miller suggested Hollcroft, but he declined as- 
suming that responsibility again, and nominated Par- 
kinson, who as President of the Society, could be ex- 
pected to exercise good control over the men, most of 
whom belonged to it. But Parkinson also declined 
on the ground that he had no military knowledge, 
and he thought one thus equipped should be chosen 
to command. It was then agreed unanimously by 
the committee to offer the command to Major James 
McFarlane, whose soldierly attainments made him emi- 
nently capable in that particular, and who was also the 
ranking officer of the militia in the expedition. He was 
prevailed on to accept it, but with evident reluctance. 

It was just at this point that the meeting had an un- 


Sim Greene. 


199 


expected interruption by the appearance of the Reverend 
J ohn Clark, who besought the angry men to give up their 
unholy expedition and return to their homes. Mr. 
Clark, who had been pastor of the old Lebanon and 
Bethel Presbyterian churches, was seventy-six years old 
at this time, and was living in retirement near by. He 
was of very venerable appearance, and rendered the 
more so by a large white wig that he wore. The men, 
for the most part, heard him in sullen silence as he 
pleaded so earnestly with them, and were not deterred 
from their purpose, though a few seemed to be impressed 
and to waver for a time in their determination. But the 
majority prevailed and the column moved forward, leav- 
ing the old clergyman sorrowfully watching it from the 
roadside. 

For some reason Major McFarlane seemed greatly de- 
pressed, and the episode just described appeared to 
deepen this feeling in him. An acquaintance of the 
commander from Brownsville chanced to be on his way 
to Pittsburg that day and fell in with the party, riding 
with Major McFarlane for a time. He said afterwards 
that the Major admitted to him the rashness of the pro- 
ceeding, but said it was then too late for him to turn 
back ! 

On arriving within about half a mile of the Hevill 
house, the horses were left in charge of men who were 
not armed, or poorly so, and the party proceeded on foot 
to where the halt was made to post pickets, as we have 
seen. The column then marched up over the hill, so as 
to approach the house to the nearest point under cover 
of the woods. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE ATTACK. 

T HE committee posted itself on an eminence which 
commanded a view of the Xevill mansion and 
its surroundings, and Major McFarlane drew his 
men up in the edge of the woods, nearest to the house. 
Everything there betokened careful preparation for re- 
sisting an assault, and one of the first surprises encoun- 
tered hy the besieging party was in the discovery that 
the house was garrisoned by United States soldiers. 
The fact was that General Xevill, on the day before, 
after the withdrawal of the force under Hollcroft, had 
ridden to Pittsburgh and besought the commandant of 
the militia there to send a force to protect his house, 
which he represented to be in danger. He received the 
reply that the Governor only, under the law, could order 
out the militia for such a purpose. He then appealed to 
the judges of the court to raise a posse comitatus , and 
was informed that this power lay in the hands of the 
sheriff of the county. In a conference between that 
official and the judges it was decided that while the 
officer had the power legally to do what was requested, 
in the state of the country then existing it was not 
practicable. 

In that situation of affairs the Inspector had called 
on his brother-in-law, Major Abraham Kirkpatrick, a 
veteran of the Revolution, and besought him to inter- 
cede with the commandant of the Federal garrison and 
try to prevail on him to send a force of soldiers to 
200 


Sim Greene. 


201 


guard the house. General ISTevill left this matter in 
the hands of Major Kirkpatrick, and returned to his 
home that evening. The result we have seen in the ar- 
rival next day of Kirkpatrick and the detail of soldiers. 
Major Kirkpatrick was the man we saw in civilian’s 
clothes. By his advice the Inspector left for Pittsburgh 
shortly after, leaving the soldiers and his own people to 
deal with any who might come. Both Harold and I, 
from our place of concealment, thought the little officer 
at the head of the line of soldiers, when they marched 
up the hill and into the house, looked like Ensign Sam- 
pie, and the correctness of our surmise was verified later. 
He had been ordered to command the squad detailed for 
this purpose, but later, inside the house, Kirkpatrick 
seems to have had supreme command of the forces. 

Major McFarlane now sent a small party, under a 
white flag, and on their approach Kirkpatrick opened 
a window for the parley which seemed to be desired. A 
demand was made for the surrender of the Inspector, 
his inspection books, and official papers, including his 
commission. The reply was sent back that General 
Kevill was not in the house. A second flag was sent 
with a demand that six men of the besieging party be 
allowed to enter the house and make search for the In- 
spector and the desired documents. Kirkpatrick sent 
back a curt refusal, coupled with the declaration that he 
had an ample force there to defend the house and would 
do so. A third flag was now sent, with notice for all 
women and children in the house to vacate it. This be- 
ing done and the non-combatants removed to a place of 
safety, the insurgents at once opened fire, which was 
briskly returned from the house. Thus it continued 
for some time without any particular result, those in the 


202 


Sim Greene. 


house being well protected, while their assailants were 
under cover of the woods. By this time the afternoon 
was well advanced. 

After this had been going on for some time the pickets 
at the post near us evidently became imbued with the 
excitement of the hour, so as to forget what they had 
been placed there for, and they moved up the hill to 
take part in the general engagement. Now was our op- 
portunity to escape from our place of concealment and 
get away unobserved. But so absorbing was the scene 
being enacted that it was not in human nature to leave, 
now we had the opportunity. It is true we left the cover 
of the bushes, but instead of taking the road for home, 
without a word to one another of our intention, we began 
moving up the hill in the woods, to get a nearer view. 
The result was we soon found ourselves on the edge of 
the force of insurgents and quite near to their com- 
mander, who was standing in the protection of a big 
tree, giving his orders. 

Under like shelter we watched the proceedings. 
There came a lull in the firing from the house, and 
Major McFarlane, doubtless thinking a parley was de- 
sired, stepped from behind the tree and threw up his 
hand in signal for his followers to withhold their fire. 
They did so, but at that instant a shot rang out from 
the house, and McFarlane sank to the earth. 

God forgive me ! I am afraid in the first moment as 
I witnessed this my feeling had in it something of ex- 
ultation. But do not judge me too harshly until you 
have been similarly placed, ye who shall read these lines 
long after I shall have gone, with him, to meet the Judge 
of all. I am glad I can truly record that my next 
thought was one more worthy. There rose up before me 


Sim Greene. 


203 


the vision of a sweet face, stamped with the grief of 
what was practically widowhood. Then I did what I 
thought she would have done, had she been there. With- 
out a thought of the danger to me, I went quickly to 
where he lay, knelt down and lifted his head on my 
knees. It was evident that he was dying. He mut- 
tered something in Gaelic that I did not understand, 
then opened his eyes wide, gazed into mine and said, 
“ She was right,” and, with a sigh, expired. 

When they saw their leader fall the fury of the 
besieging force was redoubled. From that time they 
bore little resemblance to an investing army, under 
discipline or command of any kind, but became an an- 
gry mob, bent on destruction and vengeance.. The fir- 
ing was resumed and continued with greater fury than 
ever. A message was sent to the committee by some of 
the cooler heads to know if, in their judgment, the 
house should be stormed, but before any answer could 
be received events had so been shaped that the course 
suggested was seen to be unnecessary. Richard Holl- 
croft, son of John, at the head of a few daring spirits, 
had worked his way around to the bam and the younger 
Hollcroft himself put a brand to it. It was soon in 
flames, and the fire quickly communicated to the other 
outbuildings and negro quarters. 

In the intense heat thrown off from the burning 
buildings so near it, the end of the dwelling house be- 
gan to blister and smoke, and when, a few minutes 
later, a blazing brand, carried up by the vortex of 
fire, dropped upon the roof, a yell went up from the 
crowd. This was repeated in an exultant cheer when, 
after smoking there a short while, a blaze shot up 
around it. Soon it was evident that the mansion was 


204 


Sim Greene. 


doomed, and when its roof was all ablaze the belea- 
guered force put out a white flag and the attack ceased. 
The defenders marched out and were secured by some 
of the insurgents, while others of these busied them- 
selves in rolling casks of liquor from the cellar of the 
burning building to some distance, where they were 
tapped and the victory was celebrated by imbibing 
freely of the contents. 

Three of the soldiers had been wounded, but not 
seriously. A few of the insurgents also had sustained 
wounds, but the only fatality was that of James Mc- 
Farlane. The fire continued to burn until it had de- 
stroyed all the buildings except one small one which 
the negroes begged should be spared because it con- 
tained their bacon, and thus the finest farm mansion in 
the country west of the Monongahela at that time was 
utterly consumed. 

The soldiers were allowed to go their way, after be- 
ing detained a short time, and took up their march to 
Pittsburgh. The insurgent force seemed to be relieved 
to be rid of them, for it was realized that the situation 
might become an embarrassing one for them to be hold- 
ing United States soldiers as prisoners of war. As 
they were moving off Ensign Sample came face-to-face 
with Harold, and, giving him a quick, surprised look, 
he nodded, spoke, and passed on at the head of his com- 
mand. Kirkpatrick was held and was informed by 
some of the insurgents that he was to be taken to the 
Mingo meeting-house where he would be hanged. 

“ Well,” said he, “ where is a horse ? I cannot 
walk.” 

Just at that moment he observed a man drawing a 
sharp sight on him with a gun, and he remarked: 


Sim Greene. 


205 


“ What a fool you are to shoot me ; don’t you know 
I am going to be hanged ? ” 

The man lowered his rifle. Seeing these things, I 
concluded that whatever else Major Kirkpatrick was, 
he was no coward, though his gallant defense of the 
house until he and his companions were burned out 
had proved that. 

There were other prisoners besides Kirkpatrick. 
Colonel Presley Kevill, who was a son of the Inspector, 
with Marshal Lenox, had ridden out to the Kevill 
place, heavily armed, to participate in its defense, but 
had arrived too late, coming on the scene when the 
house was in flames. They were captured by some 
of the outposts, and were brought up to the scene just 
about the time of Kirkpatrick’s surrender. These were 
offered various indignities, and for a time all of the 
prisoners were in great personal danger from the men 
who were rapidly becoming drunken on the Inspector’s 
liquor. There was much disappointment that General 
Kevill was not found in the house, as many of the 
besiegers confidently believed he would be, notwith- 
standing the first message that had come from Major 
Kirkpatrick. Had the Inspector fallen into their 
hands short work would surely have been made of him. 

One thing I observed that day was that a number of 
the officers of the militia were careful not to drink to 
excess and remained cool throughout, while nearly all 
of those making up the party under them drank reck- 
lessly and were soon in a condition to render them in- 
capable either of formulating or carrying out any well 
defined plan of action. This confirms me in what 
many of the officers have since claimed — that they 
were there to exercise such restraint as they could over 


206 


Sim Greene. 


men who were determined to execute vengeance. And 
it was this, I think, which prevented other tragedies 
being enacted that day. 

Finally Colonel Nevill and Major Lenox were let 
go, on the promise of the latter that he would not serve 
any more processes west of the mountains, Colonel 
Fevill becoming surety for him in this particular. (It 
afterwards developed that he had already served on 
William Miller the last of these papers with which 
he had been charged.) The release of Marshal Lenox 
was on a sort of parole, he having stipulated that he 
would surrender himself to a committee of the insur- 
gents if wanted again. It was largely due to Benja- 
min Parkinson that these men were allowed their free- 
dom, even on this condition. A committee attended 
them some distance, to secure their safety from some 
who seemed determined to wreak vengeance on them. 
They actually were recaptured and had another nar- 
row escape from death, but finally effected their escape 
from their drunken captors. 

The cavalcade now prepared for the return march, 
and it was with mixed feelings that the men turned 
their faces homeward. The more thoughtless of them, 
if sober enough to admit of orderly thinking, were 
swayed by conflicting emotions of jubilation over their 
triumph and grief over the death of their leader. But 
some who now thought soberly on the whole situation 
were filled with forebodings as to the outcome of this 
day’s doings, for, taken with the disorder and forcible 
resistance which had gone before, it was rebellion 
against the authority of the United States government 

The horses were brought up and the return began. 
The column was in marked contrast to that which had 


Sim Greene. 


207 


come over the same road a few hours before. Then 
military precision had marked its movement, and its 
commander had ridden a splendid horse at the head. 
Now it was little more than a mob, so far as any mili- 
tary order was concerned, and many of the troopers 
were yelling like Indians. And the commander ? 
Ah ! the pity of it ! No vehicle was at hand, so he 
must be mounted, and thus conveyed hack on the home- 
ward way. His own spirited charger snorted and 
plunged so when an attempt was made to put the grew- 
some burden on his back that the effort had to be given 
up. So old Morgan was led up and the body of Major 
McFarlane was set upon him, and thus began the 
march. 

I shuddered as I saw him, and there arose before my 
eyes again that fair vision of one at the other end of 
the journey, bowed under the weight of a great sorrow. 
He who had made such a fine figure on horseback was 
now crouched there, his head drooping forward, with 
mouth agape and bearded chin upon his breast, his dull 
eyes staring straight out from the ghastly face, and the 
blood still slowly trickling from the wound in his body. 
A man riding at each side supported a shoulder, but 
only partially prevented the lurching and swaying of 
the inanimate form. Thus he went, in the midst of 
the troop, instead of at its head, as in the coming. 

Harold and I now thought it a good time to get 
away from the crowd, and in the confusion incident 
to the start, succeeded in withdrawing quietly and 
without attracting attention to our going. Indeed a 
goodly number were there on foot, and these were going 
off in small groups at the time. I have since thought 
it strange that some of those who had been there the 


208 


Sim Greene. 


day before did not take Harold to task for the scene 
there, or ask him something about his father, but 
probably in the excitement and crowd he was not no- 
ticed by any who had been in the party under Holl- 
croft. And darkness had fallen before the crowd got 
away. I now thought of the strange conversation be- 
tween my companion and General Nevill, and asked 
him about it. He said he did not know what the In- 
spector meant, but that he must have mistaken another 
for him. This was all that was said on the matter, 
but he was silent for some time after and seemed to be 
busy with his own thoughts. 

We learned afterwards that Major Kirkpatrick suc- 
ceeded in making his escape on the road to Mingo that 
night in the darkness, with the aid of Captain Coulter 
of the militia and David Hamilton, a justice of the 
peace, at considerable risk to these, and he subsequently 
made his way to his home in Pittsburgh. 

We reached our home village late that night, and 
were the first bearers of the tiding of that fateful day’s 
doings. As may be imagined, the word we brought 
caused great excitement. John Harden had not re- 
turned, nor had any word of him come to his home 
when we reached it. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE MEETING AT MINGO. 

T HE excitement throughout the western counties 
was greatly increased when word was circu- 
lated of the destruction of the Xevill house 
and the circumstances attendant thereon. And with 
many the feeling of resistance to the government in 
enforcing the excise law was intensified. Xaturally 
there were exaggerations of some of the circumstances. 
It was frequently heard that a white flag had been 
treacherously displayed from the house, by which 
Major McEarlane was enticed from cover, to be mur- 
dered in cold blood. One report, frequently heard 
and which soon came to be widely believed among the 
insurgents, was that it was Major Kirkpatrick himself 
who had shot him. 

The body of the fallen leader was brought on the 
night of his death to his brother’s home on the Monon- 
gahela, and was buried on the following day in the 
ground adjoining the Mingo meeting-house. The oc- 
casion brought an immense throng of people together, 
saddened by the death of the leader, and many of them 
half frenzied in mind and wild with rage against those 
who were most actively opposed to their position. It 
was even proposed and vehemently advocated that an 
army of one thousand men be raised (which could 
easily have been done) to march to Pittsburgh and 
take summary vengeance on their enemies. But a 
14 209 


210 


Sim Greene. 


committee was appointed to take into consideration the 
situation and suggest the wisest steps next to be taken, 
and its more moderate counsel prevailed. The decision 
was to appoint a delegation which should go to Pitts- 
burgh and meet the Inspector and Marshal, demanding 
of the former the resignation of his commission and 
of the latter the surrender of the writs he had served, 
to prevent the possibility of their being returned in 
the East. The committee also called a meeting to con- 
vene at Mingo meeting-house five days later, to consider 
the whole situation. 

David Hamilton was deputed to go to Pittsburgh. 
He did not meet the elder Hevill, but had a conference 
with his son and Marshal Lenox. The latter said he 
had only promised not to serve any more writs west of 
the mountains, but had not agreed not to make return 
of the ones he had served, and would not so agree now. 
Furthermore he said that after being set at liberty on 
his parole he had been recaptured hv a party of the in- 
surgents and put to further indignities, finally escaping 
from them by his own efforts, so that he felt his parole 
was no longer binding. This report, brought back to the 
committee, did not serve to soften the asperities of the 
general situation, and when it became generally known 
produced an uglier mood than ever on the part of the 
disaffected people. 

The day following that on which this conference was 
held General FTevill and Marshal Lenox took a hurried 
departure from Pittsburgh, in the midst of a great 
storm, going in a small boat down the Ohio river. 
They proceeded as far as Marietta, and from there 
plunged into the wilderness of western Virginia, and 
finally made their way to the East, where their reports 


Sim Greene. 


211 


were made to the authorities of the government, and 
were largely instrumental in the decisive steps taken 
for the suppression of the Insurrection hy President 
Washington and the officers of his administration. 

At this time also Tom the Tinker was heard from in 
a characteristic proclamation. On the day following 
the burial of Major McFarlane a notice was found 
posted on a tree near the residence of a distiller who 
had refused to go on the expedition to the Nevill house, 
with pointed instruction for him to see that it should 
appear in the next issue of the Pittsburgh Gazette, and 
accordingly it was duly printed in that paper. It was 
as follows: 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

In taking a survey of the troops under my command, 
in the late expedition against that insolent exciseman, John 
Nevill, I find there were a great many delinquents amongst 
those who carry on distilling. It will therefore be ob- 
served that Tom the Tinker will not suffer any certain 
class, or set of men, to be excluded from the service of 
this my district, when notified to attend on any expedition 
in order to obstruct the execution of the law, and obtain 
a repeal thereof. And I do declare, upon my solemn word, 
that if such delinquents do not come forth on the next 
alarm, in equipments, and give their assistance, as in them 
lies, in opposing the execution, and obtaining a repeal of 
the excise laws, he, or they, will be deemed enemies, and 
standing opposed to the virtuous principles of republican 
liberty, and shall receive punishment according to the 
nature of the offense, and that at least the consumption 
of his distillery. 

Tom the Tinker. 

July 19, 1794. 


212 


Sim Greene. 


In the midst of all these exciting occurrences Mary 
Colling lay seriously ill at her home, having taken her 
bed on the night that the insurgent army came march- 
ing back from the attack on the Nevill house. Very 
deep and very general sympathy was felt and expressed 
for her, it being the common understanding that she 
had been the promised wife of the dead commander. 
It was many weeks before she was able to be up and 
about again, and then she was but a shadow of her for- 
mer self. I did not see her for some time after that, 
for a feeling of the delicacy of the situation kept me 
from obtruding my presence on her. But finally when 
I did see her, her pitiful appearance smote me deeply. 
I could scarce restrain the words of sympathy which 
sprang to my lips. But I felt it best not to utter these, 
lest the utterance could not be checked until it had told 
another story that was in my heart, for I felt that I 
now loved her more fondly than ever. Truly “ pity is 
akin to love,” and I found that the two sentiments in 
my breast were closely mingled. Of course such a dec- 
laration from me then would have been unseemly, and 
I feared, as I looked upon her, that the passion which 
prompted it would be hopeless for all time. So I 
merely expressed my pleasure in seeing her so far re- 
covered from her illness as to be able to be about again, 
and then directed the conversation in other channels. 

The meeting at Mingo was duly held and brought to- 
gether a host of prominent men from different parts of 
the disaffected region, with many of those who had been 
at the burning of the Hevill house. Colonel Cook was 
there from Bavette county, and was called to preside. 
There was also a party of Pittsburgh gentlemen present 
who came, by invitation, to offer their advice. 



Old Mingo Meeting-House. 
Froui uxi u.a ^ i.iit. 



Sim Greene. 


213 


The meeting was opened with the reading of a letter 
from Colonel Presley Kevill, in which he told of the 
departure of the Inspector and the Marshal, repudiated 
the surety given by the latter and himself because he 
alleged the conditions had been violated by the people 
to whom it was given, and wound up by praising Kirk- 
patrick for his intrepidity. This letter, however true 
it might have been, was not politic and only served to 
exasperate those who heard it. The affair at Nevill’s 
was then described by eye-witnesses for the information 
of those who had not been there, and was discussed at 
some length, when Benjamin Parkinson arose and said: 

“ We know what has been done. We wish to know 
whether what has been done is right or wrong, and 
whether we are to he supported or left to ourselves ? ” 

An ominous silence followed these words. It was 
felt to be a critical time. Many were there who were 
publicly known to have been engaged in an enterprise 
which was plainly in violation of the law, if it did not, 
indeed, rise to the gravity of rebellion against the gov- 
ernment. Heretofore the outbreaks had been under 
cover of darkness, or men had gone with masked or 
blackened faces or other disguises when they had in- 
jured officers of the law or complying distillers in per- 
son or property. But the two expeditions against the 
Hevill house had been in broad daylight and with no 
effort at concealment. Should those who were not thus 
implicated now align themselves with the ones who 
were, and all stand together in meeting the measures 
which, it was felt by many, the government would now 
institute in vindicating its authority and power? It 
was a time for men to assert themselves, and it would 
have been a brave man indeed who would have arisen 


214 


Sim Greene. 


and made a bold defense of the government in that 
presence. None attempted it. 

James Marshel finally spoke, saying that the ques- 
tion was not as to what had been done, but what was 
to be done in the future. But he did not venture any 
suggestions along that line. 

David Bradford now arose. lie was a lawyer and 
politician. He had declined to go on the expedition 
against the Hevill house when urged, because, as he ex- 
plained, he was the prosecuting attorney for Washing- 
ton county, and might later have to take cognizance 
of the matter in his official capacity. But from this 
time he was committed wholly to the Insurrection, and 
soon became its recognized leader. He was bold, bois- 
terous and impulsive; vain and fond of popular favor, 
but ever fearful of losing it ; possessed of a certain elo- 
quence calculated to sway men, and especially the un- 
thinking ones; having the capacity for laying broad 
plans, but lacking the stamina necessary for carrying 
them out. Had not this last been true, much more 
serious results must have followed the Insurrection of 
1794, and history have been written differently. He 
now made a most inflammatory speech, applauding 
what had been done and demanding that it be put to a 
vote whether or not those present would pledge their 
approval and support of those who had destroyed the 
Inspector’s house. 

Again there was a painful silence. Participants in 
the affair at Nevill’s were encouraged by Bradford’s 
speech, but many of those who were called on to approve 
of it were correspondingly depressed. At this juncture 
Hugh H. Brackenridge, of Pittsburgh, was requested 
to speak. He was at that time the recognized leader 


Sim Greene. 


215 


of the western bar, had served in the State Legislature 
and was a candidate for Congress. In politics he was 
opposed to the policy of the administration in power 
and to the imposition of the excise. He was of most 
adroit address, and a view over the whole history of 
what followed shows that he performed valuable service 
in composing the unhappy differences of that period, 
though he frequently seemed to agree with those who 
were heart and soul on the side of the Insurrection. 
He afterwards became one of the Justices of the Su- 
preme Court of the state. 

His speech on this occasion was a most able and 
timely one. He spoke in sympathy for those who suf- 
fered hardship because of the excise and got all in a 
better humor by telling some amusing anecdotes. He 
told of the flight of the Inspector and Marshal, the 
subsequent closing of the inspection office and the res- 
ignation of the collector at Pittsburgh, followed by the 
precipitate tearing down of the sign from the collection 
office by a son-in-law of the Inspector. He painted 
that scene with a touch of humor which brought a 
roar of laughter. He said he and his colleagues from 
Pittsburgh were not authorized to vote on any propo- 
sition, not having been sent there for that purpose, but 
could give their advice as fellow citizens, identified with 
the welfare of the country. Then, recurring to Parkin- 
son’s question, he said that the act might be morally 
right, but it was legally wrong — it was treason, and 
it might be expected that the President would call out 
the militia as a result — in fact it was his duty to 
do so. 

This caused a sensation, and mingled dismay and 
rage were stamped on the faces of many who had been 


216 


Sim Greene. 


participants in the recent expedition. But the speaker 
continued, saying that the President would reflect on 
the difficulty of getting the militia to march on such 
an expedition, as all would have to be brought from 
other states or the extreme eastern part of Pennsyl- 
vania. In that case he would probably be disposed to 
offer amnesty, if interceded with ; and this intercession 
would come with better grace from those who had not 
been engaged in the unlawful acts than from those who 
had been ; therefore it was not to the interest of the lat- 
ter to involve others but to allow them to be free to act 
as mediators with the government. 

Here the chairman gave a nod of appreciation and 
some who were not implicated in the outbreak experi- 
enced great relief, but the countenances of the others 
were lowering. The speaker proceeded, pointing now 
to the difficulty the people would have in maintaining 
what they had done, representing but a small section 
of the whole country with its power and authority, and 
being wholly unprepared in the matters of arms and 
munitions of war. The benevolent mind and policy of 
Washington were referred to, and the speaker expressed 
the opinion that it would be effective in bringing am- 
nesty if a judicious delegation were sent to intercede 
with the Executive on the subject of what had been 
“ rashly and illegally done,” as he termed it. He Vol- 
unteered to go himself a ; one of such a delegation and 
wound up by saying that as the present meeting was 
not in any proper sense representative of the whole 
district interested, being rather a mass-meeting than 
a gathering of duly accredited delegates with power to 
act, his advice would be that there be called a larger 


Sim Greene. 


217 


meeting, coextensive with the Fourth Survey, before 
any important step should be taken. 

This politic address had the effect of preventing the 
vote being taken, which probably would have precipi- 
tated at once a civil war with all its horrors. The 
matter of a vote was not again urged, even by Brad- 
ford, and after appointing a Committee of Safety and 
adopting a resolution instructing this committee to call 
such a meeting as was proposed by Mr. Brackenridge, 
the gathering adjourned. It was felt by most that this 
was the best thing to do, but some of the men who lin- 
gered about expressed discontent that more radical ac- 
tion had not been taken. Those especially who had 
been active at Eevill’s were plainly apprehensive of the 
outcome. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A CONSPIRACY. 

F ROM that time the effort of those who had been 
prominent in the expedition which resulted in 
the burning of the Inspector’s house was di- 
rected towards getting others implicated with them. 
This was the spirit shown in the proclamation of Tom 
the Tinker, given in the preceding chapter, and it was 
indicated in various other ways. A few days after the 
Mingo meeting the Committee of Safety issued the call 
for the delegate meeting. August 14 was named as 
the time and Parkinson’s Perry, on the Monongahela 
river, the place, the meeting to be composed of repre- 
sentatives of the four counties of western Pennsylvania 
and Ohio county, Virginia. 

Had the people been allowed to settle down into 
quietness in the intervening weeks the probability is 
strong that the end of the trouble would have come 
speedily as a result of this gathering. But the active 
spirits in opposition to the government would not have 
it so. They were determined, if possible, to array the 
whole western country against the Federal authority, 
in the hope that it would be deemed too great an under- 
taking to cope with this opposition, and the excise law 
would either be repealed or the effort to enforce it in 
the western country abandoned. Those who had been 
engaged in the destruction of the Inspector’s house had 
the additional incentive of personal safety, for they 
218 


Sim Greene. 


319 


argued that if the whole western country could be in- 
volved and arrayed with them, the numbers concerned 
would prevent the government taking extreme measures 
with them as individuals. And, as it came out later, 
some ambitious ones there were who went further and 
hoped to make this the occasion for the creation of an 
independent state in the west. Notably was this the 
case with David Bradford. 

Two matters which came to light between the Mingo 
and Parkinson’s Ferry meetings, both of which were 
traced to him as the one most responsible for their 
inception and carrying out, had much to do with keep- 
ing this feeling alive. The first of these was the rob- 
bing of the mail and the other grew out of it in the 
rendezvous at Braddock’s Field. On the way to the 
Mingo meeting Bradford had proposed to some^ others 
the interception of the mail, in the hope of learning 
what information was being sent to the East concerning 
the recent doings, and this was successfully carried out 
three days later. Two men delegated for the purpose 
met the man who was carrying the mail from Pitts- 
burgh to the East, at a point a few miles from Greens- 
burg, and forced him to give it up. The packets from 
Washington and Pittsburgh were taken out and the re- 
mainder of the mail was returned to the carrier. The 
stolen packets were opened by Bradford and a few oth- 
ers whom he called in conference in an upper room of a 
tavern in Canonsburg. The mail from Washington was 
not found to contain anything to which objection could 
be made but that from Pittsburgh revealed a number of 
letters the perusal of which threw Bradford into a tow- 
ering rage. 

These letters were from Colonel Presley Nevill to 


320 


Sim Greene. 


General Daniel Morgan, from General Gibson and 
James Brison to Governor Mifflin, from Edward Day 
to the Secretary of the Treasury and from Major 
Thomas Butler (commandant at the fort) to the Sec- 
retary of War. They gave account of the recent out- 
rages and expressed condemnatory opinions of the actors 
in them. They opened the eyes of the conspirators to 
the light in which they were held by leading citizens 
of Pittsburgh and to the situation in which they were 
placed. Their rage was enkindled against the writers 
of the letters, and they resolved, if possible, to be re- 
venged on them. At the same time they realized that 
it was all the more important now to get the whole 
western country involved, that there might be a more 
general sharing of the responsibility for lawless acts. 
Parkinson asked the lawyer what would be done with 
those known to be connected with the attack on and 
burning of ISTevill’s house, if the government should 
follow up the matter with the rigor that was feared. 

“ They will be hanged,” promptly replied Bradford, 
and then he followed that up with a harangue on the 
importance of standing by those thus implicated, for 
all who had taken a decided stand against the excise 
had some share in the responsibility for the outbreaks 
and would be held to account. 

The result of this gathering was the hatching of a 
plot by which it was hoped to punish the Pittsburgh 
informers, at the same time involve a large part of the 
men in a lawless proceeding, and put into the hands of 
the insurgents arms and munitions of war with which 
to meet any force that the government might send 
against them. In brief, it contemplated the assembling 
of the militia at Braddock’s Field, which was the place 


Sim Greene. 


221 


of the annual rendezvous of the whole division, a march 
on Pittsburgh the reduction of the fort and seizing of 
the arms and ammunition then stored there in consid- 
erable quantity; also the capture of the writers of the 
letters to which objection was made, and their incar- 
ceration in the jail at Washington. 

Thus will men, when they get started on a wrong 
course and find it necessary to cover their tracks, go to 
lengths that they would not have dreamed of in the 
outset. These were all men who in the ordinary things 
of life were respectable and upright. They were really 
representative men in their several communities. Near- 
ly all of them were then or had been sworn officers of 
the law. I knew some of them personally and esteemed 
them for their undoubted good qualities. I make all 
due allowance for the hardness with which the excise 
law bore on them and their neighbors, but I do not 
sympathize with the labored efforts that have been made 
by some writers to condone and gloss over their fault. 
They were wrong, and wrong is never right ! 

All of the objects of the gathering were not stated 
in the call when it was made. That Bradford com- 
municated all that was in his mind to his associates at 
that time is not certain. But the objects of the gather- 
ing were generally understood to be as outlined above, 
and some of the more violent, in discussing the pro- 
posed expedition, coupled with these the project of 
sacking and burning the town. A great resentment for 
its people had arisen in many minds, because it was 
thought that as a class they were enemies of the com- 
mon cause. Pittsburgh at that time contained a popu- 
lation of about one thousand souls, and the garrison 
of the fort was weak in numbers. Fort Fayette itself 


232 Sim Greene. 

was a mere stockade on the bank of the Allegheny 
river. 

The call for the assemblage was signed by the junto 
who had concocted the scheme. Its bombastic style was 
undoubtedly that of Bradford. A copy was addressed 
to the colonel of each regiment of militia and it read 
as follows: 

Having had suspicions that the Pittsburgh post would 
carry with him the sentiments of some of the people of 
the county respecting our present situation, and the let- 
ters by the post being now in our possession, by which 
certain secrets are discovered, hostile to our interests, it 
is, therefore, now come to that crisis when every citizen 
must express his sentiments, not by his word, but by his 
actions. You are then called upon, as a citizen of the 
western country, to render your personal service, with as 
many volunteers as you can raise, to rendezvous at your 
usual place of meeting on Wednesday next, and thence 
you will march to the usual place of rendezvous at Brad- 
dock’s Field, on the Monongahela, on Friday, the 1st day 
of August next, to be there at two o’clock in the after- 
noon, with arms and accoutrements in good order. If 
any volunteers shall want arms and ammunition, bring 
them forward, and they shall be supplied as well as pos- 
sible. Here, sir, is an expedition proposed in which you 
will have an opportunity of displaying your military tal- 
ents and of rendering service to your country. Four days 
provisions will be wanted — let the men be thus supplied. 

This call immediately became known throughout the 
country, and on the part of the people generally met 
with approval. Some commanders saw in it a peril 
into which they hesitated to go, but their men took 
matters into their own hands and ordered the officers 


Sim Greene. 


223 


to lead them forth. Some went with the hope of re- 
straining their men from violence, while others led 
forth their commands in full approval of the project 
A curious thing took place in the few days between 
the issuance of the order and the assemblage, which 
showed the vacillating character of David Bradford and * 
his conflicting desires to attain his ambition and also 
be on the popular side. Some who saw the peril of the 
proceeding raised such a protest against it that he is- 
sued an order in these words : “ Upon receiving some 

late .intelligence from our runners, we have been in- 
formed that the ammunition we were about to seize was 
destined for General Scott, who is just going out against 
the Indians. We therefore have concluded not to touch 
it I give you this early notice that your brave men 
of war need not turn out until further notice.” 

Then a storm of protest arose over this. A public 
meeting was held in Washington, and the people poured 
in there from the surrounding country and demanded 
that the expedition be allowed to proceed. Bradford, 
seeing the temper of the people, made a speech in which 
he was more inflammatory than he had ever been before, 
and denied that he had consented to the countermand, 
though a copy of it was afterwards produced in his 
handwriting and over his signature. The time being 
so short, this later document did not get wide circula- 
tion in time to deter many from going, and at the ap- 
pointed time the men began marching to the designated 
rendezvous by the thousands. Colonel Cook, being 
among the more remote commanders from the principal 
center of disturbance, withheld knowledge of the call 
from his men, but went himself, as he afterwards 
claimed, to aid in restraining the more violent. 


224 : 


Sim Greene, 


In many places the efforts of the clergy were put 
forth to dissuade men from engaging in this enterprise, 
with but little apparent result. Indeed, all through 
this troublous period, the ministers of the several de- 
nominations, with but few exceptions, stood firm on the 
side of the government, and boldly preached against 
resistance. But the men seemed to think this was an 
occasion which did not call for their interference, and 
so, for the most part, went right on in their course, 
though some undoubtedly were restrained by the earnest 
pleading of these men of God. 

While the exciting scenes described in preceding 
pages were being enacted, how was it going with our 
friends in the village on the Monongahela ? Some in- 
teresting things had been occurring there. John Har- 
den did not return, and his son and sister were in deep 
anxiety concerning his fate when, some time after the 
second attack on the Hevill house, word came that the 
dead body of a man had been found there. Harold 
asked me to accompany him again, and I agreed to do 
so. This time, Colonel Bayard supplying us with 
horses from his stable, we rode. When we arrived at 
the place we had difficulty in finding anybody, the fam- 
ily having taken up their abode in Pittsburgh and taken 
the servants with them. 

The place had a most dreary aspect as we now saw 
it in the glare of day, the fire having occurred after 
the shades of evening had fallen. Blackened patches 
marked the sites of the former buildings, and where 
the stately mansion had stood there remained only white 
chimneys, standing like spectral sentinels. Smoke was 
still curling up from a mound which had been grain in 


Sim Greene. 325 

the bam, and the smell of burnt things was still on 
the air. 

We finally found an old negro on Colonel Presley 
Hevill’s farm, adjoining the homestead, who had been 
left in charge of the two places. He was very sus- 
picious of us at first, and did not want to answer any 
questions, not knowing what trouble might next come 
upon him. But when we assured him that we had no 
part in or sympathy with the warfare being waged 
against his master he became more communicative, and 
admitted in answer to our inquiry, that a dead body 
had been found some days after the burning of the 
house, in an obscure place in the corn-field, back of the 
site of the house. Asked to give some description of 
this, he said : 

“ Well, sah, I doan’ know as I kin do dat. I spec’s 
he didn’t look much when he’s ’libe like he look when 
we fin’ him. He bin lay in’ out in de hot weddah some 
days den, an’ he’s more’n ready to bury. We gets him 
undah groun’ ’mejately, if not soonah. But I’se got 
his ol’ pipe an’ hat. Mebbe you know dem t’ings.” ? 

He shuffled off into an adjoining cabin and soon re- 
turned with the articles. Only a glance was necessary 
on Harold’s part, and I was sufficiently familiar with 
the articles to identify them. They had undoubtedly 
been the property of John Harden. I drew the black 
man aside and talked with him a few minutes, for I 
felt that Harold would like to be alone. Uncle Eli. 
for so he told me he was called, recounted to me the 
circumstances of the finding of the body. The odo^ 
from it first directed attention to it. Search was made 
and it was soon found some distance up in the field, 
among the growing com. A plain trail in the soft 
15 


226 


Sim Greene. 


earth showed where the wounded man had dragged 
himself from the edge of the woods where he fell. A 
few dark spots here and there showed that he was 
bleeding at the time. The negroes being alone at the 
place, had buried the body and had been afraid to say 
anything about it at first, but later it had leaked out. 
Uncle Eli seemed to be relieved when he had unbur- 
dened himself of this information. Besides thanking 
him warmly we left a little reward in his hand which 
brought a great scraping of his feet and pulling the 
one lock that remained above his forehead. 

He took us to the place of the burial, and after we 
had marked it well with stones we returned home. It 
was long after that until Harold could have the bones 
disinterred and removed to the burial ground that had 
been established on the hill overlooking the village of 
his residence. 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

THE GATHERING AT BRADDOCK’s FIELD. 


C OLOHEL Bayard had entertained visitors a few 
weeks before the events we have been consider- 
ing, in the persons of the Honorable Albert Gal- 
latin and his wife. Mr. Gallatin had been happily 
married the second time a few months before, and was 
now bringing his bride to her new home on the Mo- 
nongahela. Having come by way of Pittsburgh, that 
he might transact some business there, they were driv- 
ing from that place to Friendship Hill and made a 
stop with the Bayards at the end of the first day’s short 
drive, in response to a pressing invitation of the Colonel, 
who had met Mr. Gallatin in Pittsburgh the day be- 
fore. The couple seemed much devoted to one another, 
and it was, indeed, the* beginning of a very happy mar- 
ried life. 

Mr. Gallatin had seen some changes since our meet- 
ing with him at Colonel Cook’s, three years before. He 
had attained to such prominence in the Legislature of 
the state that his election to the United States Senate 
quickly followed. But his service in that capacity was 
brief, for, not having been a naturalized citizen of the 
country for quite the nine years required to render him 
eligible to hold a seat in that body, his election was 
declared void after he had been in the Senate hut a few 
months. At that time he was out of politics and was 
going to his home in the hope of a term of quiet, but 


228 


Sim Greene. 


the fates had decreed otherwise. He was still much 
interested in the questions growing out of the excise ex- 
citement, but from his own observation and from read- 
ing of the French Revolution he had learned the danger 
of giving encouragement to anything which savored of 
resistance to law and constituted authority. These 
had taught him what Colonel Bayard had tried to im- 
press on him and his friend three years before — the 
uncontrollable nature of large popular assemblages 
when they get headed the wrong way. He now frankly 
admitted this, as later, in the Pennsylvania Legislature, 
he confessed his “ one political sin/’ in subscribing to 
the intemperate resolutions of the Pittsburgh meeting. 

Mr. Gallatin had improved much in his use of Eng- 
lish by this time, though still having a marked foreign 
accent, and was a most ready and convincing talker. 
After remaining over night he proceeded on his way to 
his home near Hew Geneva, and in the succeeding 
weeks was a most prominent figure in the effort to bring 
about submission. 

On the day calling for the assemblage at Braddock’s 
Field Sim announced his intention of going, “jest to 
look abaout a leetle,” as he expressed it. He had never 
had much to say on the excise question, and not being 
directly affected by the tax, had not taken any decided 
stand by action. He was a man of known courage, 
and not such as the violent agitators were wont to se- 
lect and command to declare themselves, so he had 
been allowed to go his way without interference. I 
knew that “ General ” Washington, as he always called 
him, was his ideal of all that was greatest and best, and 
felt well assured in my own mind that if the time 
should come when he would have to take side, it would 


Sim Greene. 


229 


be on that represented by his beloved commander. I 
did not blame him for not needlessly rushing into trou- 
ble. In fact, I had been pursuing that same course 
myself. 

He asked Harold and me if we would not like to go 
with him and see the sights. Harold excused himself 
and said he thought he would rather go for a hunt by 
himself in the woods. He had been having moody 
spells ever since his father’s death became known, and 
seemed to desire to be much alone. I very willingly 
accepted Sim’s invitation, and the early morning saw 
us off. A keel-boat was going to start with a load of 
the products of the country that, morning for Pitts- 
burgh, and Sim had promised its owner the night be- 
fore to give him a helping hand in getting it over the 
riffles which were worst above the mouth of the Youghio- 
gheny. 

The keel-boat is rarely seen any more, and in the 
present trend of affairs is likely to be an unknown 
craft to those who shall read these lines, so I will de- 
scribe it briefly. It was the principal freight carrier 
on the rivers in those days and for some years after. 
It was from twelve to fifteen feet wide and averaged 
about fifty feet in length. In appearance it was much 
like the modern canal-boat, being pointed at each end ; 
and with a covered cabin extending its length along the 
middle. On each side of this there was a narrow, flat 
stretch of deck, called the running-board. The boat was 
propelled by long poles which men planted against the 
river bottom at one end and against their shoulders, 
protected by thick pads, at the other. With these poles 
they pushed, walking along the running-board as the 
boat progressed and running back when the stern was 


230 


Sim Greene. 


reached to repeat the performance. A heavy oar, or 
“ sweep,” was mounted at the stern, with which to steer 
the craft, and sometimes oars, and occasionally a square 
sail, were used to aid in its propulsion. It was labori- 
ous work, especially when going up-stream against a 
strong current. 

On that morning of the first of August, 1794, as we 
swung out into the stream, Jimmy Rose, the owner and 
captain of the boat, sounded a melodious cadence on his 
horn, for a horn was a part of the equipment of every 
keel-boat. It was used for signalling, but frequently 
its sweet tones were borne ashore when there was noth- 
ing in particular to call for a signal, so bound up was 
the horn with the movement of this species of craft. 
As we proceeded on our way its tones were heard from 
time to time, and when we passed other boats their 
horns were sounded in response. 

Sim and I took poles and helped to get the boat out 
into the channel and then to keep it going. The neces- 
sity for this ceased as we neared Bridendall shoal, the 
current being sufficient to keep it going at as great speed 
as was desired at such a place. The water in the river 
was low, and it took careful handling to keep the heavily 
loaded boat in the channel, so that it would not ground. 
But the chute was successfully run and then the boat 
had to be poled through the succeeding still water until 
Burns’s riffle was reached. Here it scraped bottom a 
few times in the passage, the grating being plainly felt, 
hut nothing more serious happened and the place was 
successfully passed. These were the two worst places 
on that part of the river, and we poled along steadily 
until nearly the middle of the day when the mouth of 
the Youghiogheny was reached. 


Sim Greene. 


231 


McKee’s ferry was located there, being operated over 
both rivers. We embarked at this point, intending to 
walk the remaining four miles, for we could cover the 
■ distance more quickly that way. At the ferry house we 
encountered John McKee, who had just had the plan 
made for the town he was going to establish. On paper 
it was quite a pretentious place, and had been carefully 
laid out by a competent surveyor. 

“ Guess he’ll hev his match to make a town hyar,” 
said Sim, as we picked our way around a large swamp 
which occupied much of the central part of the plot. 
But when McKee put his lots on sale the following year, 
at twenty dollars each, the choice locations being deter- 
mined by lottery, they met with a ready sale. And, 
although the growth of the town was slow for a long 
time, McKeesport is now becoming a place of consid- 
erable importance. 

Sim was well posted on the history and local geog- 
raphy of the region, and entertained me by pointing 
out the places of interest and commenting on them as we 
passed along. 

“ Hyar,” said he, “ was located a Delaware village, 
the home uv Queen Aliquippa uv that tribe. When 
Gener’l Washington passed along hyar in fifty-three 
(only he wuzn’t a gener’l then, but jest a young feller 
uv twenty-three) he passed by on t’other side, like the 
priest an’ the Levite ’at I ust to hear the parson tell 
abaout, an’ he didn’t stop to see her copper-colored 
majesty. She didn’t like that, an’ sent him word so. 
When he kem back this way he stopped an’ paid his 
respecks to the oY gal, an’ give ’er some presents. 
Among them wuz a bottle uv rum, an’ that tickled ’er 
more’n anything else. She couldn’t git done a-titter- 


232 


Sim Greene. 


avatin’ abaout it. I heerd bim tell on’t onct when I 
wuz a gyard at his headquarters.” 

When we had proceeded about a mile below the 
mouth of the Youghiogheny, we came to where a hollow 
opened out between the hills to the river, with a little 
stream winding down through it. 

“ Hyar,” said Sim, “ is where Braddock’s army kem 
aout on the Monongahela in fifty-five, an’ Washington 
was with him, but so sick that day that he could hardly 
set on his horse. They concluded the bluff was too 
steep to make a road daown along this side uv the river, 
to git their artillery and wagons along, so they forded 
the river at the riffie thar, an’ had to cross back less’n 
three mile below, jest at the p’int we’re headed for. 
I’ll show you the very spot where they landed on this 
side when we git daown thar.” 

We were not long in covering the distance to the 
mouth of Turtle creek. Until that point was reached 
our way had skirted along the base of a steep hill, but 
now the country opened back from the river, an ex- 
pansive bottom surrounding the creek and extending 
along the river below for some distance. Back of that 
the hills rose gently. There were reed-grown flats along 
the creek and a little clearing among the trees at one 
point where still stood the cabin which had been the 
home of John Frazier, the first white settler in the 
lower Monongahela valley. But save for these the 
whole country was thickly covered with forest and pre- 
sented about the same aspect that it did when Brad- 
dock saw it on his ill-fated expedition thirty-nine years 
before. Washington tells us in his journal that he 
stayed over night in the Frazier cabin when he first 
penetrated this region in 1753. 


Sim Greene. 


233 


Sim pointed out to me the place where the army had 
again forded the Monongahela, in crossing back to the 
east side, and the notch cut in the steep bank of the 
river, a short distance below the mouth of the creek, 
which had been made at the time to afford a roadway 
up which to draw the artillery and wagons belonging to 
the expedition. It remains there, plainly to be seen, 
to this day.* 

During our stay there we went back on the plateau 
and viewed the battle-ground. The old road cut by 
Braddock’s men was still discernible, and we traced it 
up to where it passed along a ridge with a ravine on 
each side, hidden by the thick bushes. There it stopped. 
This was the awful trap into which the army of the 
proud Briton marched that day, and was shot to pieces 
without being able to inflict any damage of consequence 
on the hidden foe. This explained also what those who 
fled from the field that day, and got back to their homes 
beyond the sea, were never able to understand — the 
fact that this hidden foe seemed to shoot right out of 
the earth. There were still many relics of the fight to 
be found, and we gathered a number. 

But there were other things to interest us on Brad- 
dock’s Field that day. A scene of great animation met 
our eyes when we arrived there. Thousands of men 
had assembled and others were arriving constantly, com- 
ing from all directions. Most of them came in order, 
as bodies of the militia, under command of their proper 
officers, the foot in the picturesque garb in which they 
were accustomed to go against the Indians — yellow 
hunting shirts, handkerchiefs tied about their heads and 

* In recent years it has been covered under many feet of slag 
from the great Carnegie furnaces near by. 


234 


Sim Greene. 


rifles on their shoulders — and the light horse of the 
counties in military dress. But many others came 
singly or in small groups, without military order. All 
bore provisions, and on every hand preparations were 
under way for the encampment over night. 

David Bradford had assumed the office of major- 
general, and was there in the full uniform of that rank. 
Mounted on a spirited horse, he rode about the camp, 
haranguing and giving orders and receiving the adula- 
tion of the throng. For the time he was the idol of 
the men, and could have led them on any desperate 
enterprise. The popularity he was enjoying was sweet- 
ness to him, and had he not been a weak man Pitts- 
burgh would have been in ashes before twenty-four hours 
should pass and a reign of terror inaugurated, the end 
of which no man could tell. That a majority of those 
present had come with the full expectation of engaging 
in some such enterprise was made apparent by mingling 
with them. 

During the afternoon there was a constant fusillade, 
caused by the discharge of guns. Many were shoot- 
ing at marks with balls and others were firing at ran- 
dom in the air, with powder only. The smoke of this 
continuous discharge and of the camp-fires hung over 
the place like a cloud. There appeared to be among 
the men a disposition to engage in anything extrava- 
gant. They were in that dangerous frame of mind 
when only a resolute leader was needed to incite them 
to any desperate deed. 

When evening settled down many more fires were 
built, not because their warmth was needed, but to 
make light and to drive the troublesome insects away. 
The shooting ceased, but the men continued about the 


Sim Greene. 235 

fires, talking, and there was little sleep in the camp 
that night. 

Sim and I went about from group to group, mingling 
with the men and hearing their talk. The effect was 
disquieting to me, and I was filled with apprehension 
concerning the outcome on the morrow. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE MARCH ON PITTSBURGH. 

P ITTSBURGH had been uneasy for some days. 
There was not much sleeping done in it that 
night, nor had there been the night before. 
Word had reached it of the proposed gathering and of 
the threats against the town. Some gentlemen from 
Washington arrived the night before the day appointed 
for the rendezvous, with the intelligence that Bradford 
and his satellites had taken great umbrage at the writ- 
ers of the stolen letters and were swearing vengeance 
against them. They also said that the hosts about to 
gather at Braddock’s Field were in an ungovernable 
fury not only against these, but against the soldiers 
also. Indeed, they were in no amiable frame of mind 
towards the people of Pittsburgh in general. The chief 
men of the town, to whom these tidings were borne, 
were greatly alarmed, and resolved to call a town meet- 
ing at once. 

Accordingly the court-house bell was rung, and there 
was gathered that night nearly the whole male popula- 
tion of the town. The impending danger was anxiously 
discussed, and there was foreboding in every heart. 
The little town could not muster more than two hundred 
and fifty men, and not all of these could be depended 
on, for it was known that the insurgents had their sym- 
pathizers among the Pittsburghers. The fort was a 
mile from the village, a mere picketed enclosure, gar- 
236 


Sim Greene. 


237 


risoned by about forty soldiers, and it could not stand 
long before the assault of an army such as was reported 
coming against it. The houses were nearly all of 
wood, clustered close together, and the town could be 
burned over the heads of the inhabitants by such a force 
with little difficulty. It was no wonder the people were 
filled with apprehension, for as a matter of fact, Pitts- 
burgh then and for some hours longer was in great 
peril. 

The gentlemen from Washington reported that they 
had only reached Pittsburgh with great difficulty, after 
being stopped a number of times by people who were 
suspicious of their motives. On being appealed to for 
their advice they said they could see but two things to be 
done with any prospect of placating the mob and pos- 
sibly saving the town. These were to induce the ob- 
noxious persons to absent themselves for a time, under 
the idea of banishment by the rest of the citizens, and 
for a representative body of the townspeople to march 
out and meet the coming host, as if to make common 
cause with them. This after extended discussion by 
the Washington gentlemen and a committee appointed 
to confer with them, was the plan agreed upon, some 
of the proscribed persons acquiescing in the arrange 
ment. So delicate was the business felt to be, that 
these details were carefully guarded in a picked com- 
mittee, and many of those in the main gathering 
thought at the time that actual sentence of banishment 
was pronounced. 

Most of the men named in that order left the town 
that night, some of them to go into hiding until the 
matter would, blow over. But others of them, includ- 
ing Major Kirkpatrick and Colonel Kevill, actually 


238 


Sim Greene, 


soon left the country and went to the east of the moun- 
tains, where they remained until the Insurrection was 
quelled — an eminently sensible thing for them to do, 
under the circumstances. The meeting adopted reso- 
lutions which seemed to commit it to the cause of the 
insurgents, one of these being that on the morrow the 
inhabitants of the town should “ march out and join 
the people on Braddock’s Field, as brethren, to carry 
into effect with them any measure that may seem to be 
advisable for the common cause.” 

There is a nice question of morals involved just here, 
as to whether the people of Pittsburgh were justified 
in this indubitable duplicity. As I am only writing 
history, I will not pause to discuss it, but will leave it 
with my readers, each to settle it for himself. This I 
believe to be certain, however, that their town was saved 
thereby, as doubtless were some lives also. Mr. Brack- 
enridge, whom we have seen before, at the Mingo meet- 
ing, was one of the chief figures in this gathering and 
in carrying through this delicate business and that of 
the following day. 

All that night the printers and the job press in the 
Gazette office were kept busy, turning out handbills 
which set forth the action of the town meeting, the reso- 
lutions adopted and a certificate from the committee 
appointed for the purpose to the effect that the sentence 
of banishment had been carried out with regard to all 
of the obnoxious persons except two officials who were 
within the fort, and therefore inaccessible that night. 

The next day there was a general exodus of the men of 
Pittsburgh towards Braddock’s Field, nine miles away. 
The militia marched out in a body. The citizens, with 
the Burgess at their head, made another large com- 


Sim Greene. 


339 


pany. Arriving at the scene of the encampment, the 
bills were distributed among the men there assembled, 
and the Pittsburghers also mingled among them, tell- 
ing of the way they had driven out the obnoxious per- 
sons and bestowing epithets of indignity upon them. 

Oh the morning of the second day of the encamp- 
ment there was a committee appointed, consisting of the 
principal regimental officers, with representation by 
the Pittsburghers, to consider ways and means. Here 
the adroitness of Mr. Brackenridge was again evident. 
It was decided not to attack the fort, as was at first 
intended, because the stores gathered there were in- 
tended for the army, then in the field against the In- 
dians in the northwest, and were greatly needed. And, 
although they were of the proscribed ones, it was finally 
resolved to allow the Commandant and Quartermaster 
to remain for the present, to attend to the distribution 
of these supplies, but to take up their cases at the meet- 
ing to be held two weeks later at Parkinson’s Perry. 

The committee was holding its session in a retired 
place in the woods, but a large crowd had gathered 
about to hear what was going on. Some of these on- 
lookers now began to manifest impatience with the pro- 
ceedings and their apparent tendency. The action of 
the Pittsburgh town meeting had not wholly allayed the 
feeling of resentment in the breasts of many, and some 
were suspicious that the action had not been prompted 
by loyalty to the cause of the insurgents. One of the 
on-lookers voiced the general feeling by demanding that 
the committee get ready to do something, or they would 
go themselves. Bradford had seemed to be coming 
around to the way of thinking of the majority of the 
committee, who undoubtedly were trying to bring the 


240 


Sim Greene. 


enterprise to a peaceful outcome, but be now evidently 
took this as a strong hint from the men that they must 
be allowed to march to Pittsburgh, so he moved that the 
troops take up the march immediately. 

“ Yes/’ said Mr. Brackenridge, who in his mingling 
with the men the night before had been convinced that 
they could not be deterred from that part of the project, 
“ By all means ! And if with no other view, at least 
to give proof that the strictest order can be preserved 
and no damage done. We will just march through, 
and making a turn, come out on the bank of the Mo- 
nongahela, stopping only long enough to take a little 
whisky with the inhabitants, then embark and cross the 
river.” 

Without any formal action being taken to that effect 
that became the order of the day. The committee at 
once arose, and preparations were made for the start. 
The Westmoreland county troops now decided that they 
would not make the march, and soon departed for their 
homes, but the remainder, still several thousand strong, 
took up the march. Most of these had come from the 
valley of the Monongahela, in Washington and Alle- 
gheny counties, and their nearest way home from Pitts- 
burgh would be by crossing the river there. 

The procession when under way presented a most 
animated spectacle and was one of imposing propor- 
tions. Estimates made at the time are that more than 
four thousand men proceeded from the encampment to 
the town. The cavalry went first and the infantry fol- 
lowed. The men were constantly shouting, the cries 
most frequently heard being “ Hurrah for Tom the 
Tinker ! ” and “ Down with the excise ! ” 

That Saturday afternoon was a time of great anxiety 


Sim Greene. 


241 


in the little town at the junction of the rivers. When 
the great throng marched in a panic ensued among the 
women and children, who expected nothing less than to 
see their homes burned and perhaps to be murdered 
themselves. But the army marched to the common 
near the Monongahela and there halted. The inhabi- 
tants busied themselves in carrying whisky, water and 
provisions to them, and vied with one another in the 
attentions they bestowed on their visitors. Mr. Brack- 
enridge said afterwards that it cost him four barrels of 
his best whisky, but sagely added that it were better 
thus than that a pint of blood should he spilt. 

Pittsburgh then consisted of but a few blocks at the 
Point, extending a short distance along the two rivers. 
The common stretched above it to the base of Grant’s 
Hill, now crowned by the court-house, and it was on 
this common that the army halted. After it had been 
regaled it moved on, and during the afternoon nearly 
all of it passed over the river and away, the soldiers 
on foot making the passage in flat-boats and the cavalry 
fording. 

But all did not go. Straggling parties left the ranks 
and remained hanging about the town that night, oc- 
casioning great apprehension among the inhabitants and 
giving them their third sleepless night. Some of these 
stragglers were outspoken in their threats that they still 
would carry out the intention of their coming, in being 
revenged on those whom they proclaimed to be the ene- 
mies of the cause. It was a night of frequent alarms, 
and one of these, at about nine o’clock, was occasioned 
by the discovery of a bright light on the hill across the 
Monongahela from the town. It was made by the bum- 


16 


242 


Sim Greene. 


ing of the barn on Major Kirkpatrick’s farm, which 
was entirely consumed, with its contents. 

This, it was afterwards learned, was the signal that 
had been agreed on between a party there and the men 
who had remained in the town, and the latter were then 
to fire a number of houses in Pittsburgh, the residences 
of the men obnoxious to the insurgents being the ones 
selected. Efforts were indeed made to carry this out, 
but were frustrated, and this was accomplished largely 
by men who had been participants in the gathering at 
Braddock’s Field. Among those in this good work 
Colonel Cook, James Marshel and Andrew McFarlane, 
brother of the man who had been killed, had prominent 
part. 

Mr. McFarlane’s stand had much to do with saving 
property. That night he reasoned with the men who 
were in the act of putting the brand to Kirkpatrick’s 
town house, and they stayed their hands, shamed, ap- 
parently, by his forbearance when in their view he had 
so much cause for vengeance. For Mr. McFarlane 
shared the common belief that his brother had fallen 
at the hands of Major Kirkpatrick. Mr. Bracken- 
ridge here got in a word which finally decided them, 
and the house was not fired. 

“ You cannot,” said he, “ burn that house without 
destroying that of Colonel O’Hara, who is with Gen- 
eral Wayne, fighting the Indians. You see it is of 
wood and close by. To destroy his property under 
these circumstances would be an act for which you could 
never forgive yourselves.” 

Other efforts were made to bum property that night, 
but were hindered through the vigilance and deter- 
mination of the gentlemen named and some others who 


Sim Greene. 


243 


rallied to their aid, but it was not until morning came, 
and the last of the straggling bands of insurgents left 
the town, that its inhabitants breathed freely. They 
felt that it had been a narrow escape from destruction, 
and that was true. Given a leader who was as strong in 
doing as he was in promising by grandiloquent oratory, 
the Braddock’s Field gathering would have done all it 
assembled to do. For it was apparent at all stages that 
the men were only waiting to be led on, and on a few 
occasions exhibited a dangerous tendency to go without 
leadership. It was made evident also that a goodly 
number were there to do all they could to prevent vio- 
lence, and they did exert a mighty influence to that 
happy end. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


BEGINNING OF THE END. 

W HILE the Braddock’s Field gathering seemed 
to amount to so little after promising so 
much, its effects were undoubtedly more per- 
nicious than those produced by any previous excess. 
The flame of insurrection had been confined to but a 
small space before this time, hut now it rapidly spread 
to a distance in all directions. All of the four counties 
most affected witnessed new disturbances and outrages, 
and even in Bedford county the insurrectionary spirit 
became manifest. Some of the Virginia counties bor- 
dering on Pennsylvania also became affected, and as 
far east as the valley of the Susquehanna men began 
raising “ liberty poles ” and declaring against the excise. 

It must be remembered that there was an apparent 
acquiescence in the measures of Bradford and approval 
of the rendezvous by judges, attorneys, county officials, 
including practically all the magistrates, the town offi- 
cers and merchants of Pittsburgh. Of course the mo- 
tives of many of these were not understood, but their 
attitude seemed to give appearance of unanimity to the 
cause. Inconsiderate people in other places became 
ashamed that they had done nothing, and now hastened 
to put themselves in line with the most violent of those 
in active resistance. A report had gone out from the 
Mingo meeting that Bradford and Brackenridge had 
pledged their lives and fortunes for the lawfulness and 
244 


Sim Greene. 


245 


success of the measures. People who did not know just 
how it was all to be done believed that under the di- 
rection of the two lawyers named the plans must be well 
laid and would be carried out successfully. Their legal 
abilities were extolled by the infatuated people. 

Bradford was very active in the few days following 
the march to Pittsburgh, and still had for his chief 
motive the involving of the whole section of country in 
forcible resistance to the excise. He was heard to boast 
exultingly of “ a glorious revolution, effected without 
bloodshed/’ referring to the Braddock’s Field gathering. 
He was busied for some days in sending inflammatory 
letters to sections in which the insurrectionary spirit 
had not been very active. One of these, addressed to 
the inhabitants of Monongalia county, Virginia, has 
been preserved, and shows clearly his desire to get the 
largest possible representation of the western country 
present at the Parkinson’s Ferry meeting and to have 
it declare unequivocally against any compliance with 
the excise law, even to the extent of armed rebellion. 

This document was in Bradford’s usual grandiose 
style, as some brief extracts from it will show. Re- 
ferring to those engaged in the burning of Nevill’s 
house, he said : “ Shall we suffer them to fall a sac- 

rifice to Federal persecution, or shall we support them ? 
On the result of this business we have fully deliberated, 
and have determined with head, heart, hand and voice, 
that we will support the opposition to the excise law. 
The crisis is now come, submission or opposition; we 
are determined in the opposition. We are determined 
in the future to act agreeably to system; to form ar- 
rangements guided by reason, prudence, fortitude and 
spirited conduct.” 


246 


Sim Greene. 


The result of these various forces was soon seen in 
increased hostility to the execution of the law and in 
further outbreaks. It was only a few days after the 
things described until an armed mob gathered at the 
house of the collector of- revenue in Fayette county, 
burned his dwelling and compelled him to resign his 
commission and swear that he would not hold the of- 
fice in the future. Another party visited the collector 
for Bedford county and compelled him to take a like 
course. His haystacks were fired and some personal 
indignities were offered him. 

Tom the Tinker’s men were very busy at this time 
in erecting what were called “ liberty poles,” carrying 
flags and emblazonments. This had been common in 
the Revolutionary period, and is employed in our day 
to give vent to party feeling. Everywhere over the 
western country these poles went up, carrying such 
devices as “ An equal tax and no excise,” “ United we 
stand, divided we fall,” “ Down with the excise ! ” etc. 
In some sections men who were suspected of not being 
loyal to the cause were compelled to assist in raising 
these poles and then in shouting in acclaim of the sen- 
timents carried by them. 

Thus passed the time until the 14th of August, the 
date fixed for the delegated meeting of the whole dis- 
trict- involved. In the meantime word of the doings of 
the recent weeks had been carried to the East, and a 
long-suffering administration concluded it was time to 
act decisively. President Washington issued a procla- 
mation on the 7th of August reciting the formation of 
combinations in western counties of Pennsylvania to 
defeat the execution of the excise law and the perpetra- 
tion of acts amounting to treason, “ being overt acts of 


Sim Greene. 


247 


levying war against the United States.” He com- 
manded all insurgents to disperse and retire peaceably 
to their respective abode i before the first of September 
following, and warned all persons against aiding, abet- 
ting or comforting the perpetrators of these treasonable 
acts. At the same time he issued a call for 12,950 
troops, to be raised in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Vir- 
ginia and Hew Jersey, to be held in readiness for im- 
mediate service, if desired. 

But that one more opportunity might be given the 
insurgents to submit to authority, he appointed a com- 
mission to visit the scene of disturbance at once and 
try to bring about submission without the use of the 
soldiery. The Governor of the state also appointed two 
commissioners for like purpose, issued a proclamation 
for the raising and equipping as quickly as possible of 
the state’s quota of soldiers, and called an extra session 
of the Legislature. Congress shortly before had further 
amended the excise law, to make it easier on those who 
so actively opposed it. But word of none of these 
measures had reached the West when the meeting as- 
sembled at Parkinson’s Perry. 

The place was that now occupied by Monongahela 
City.* The counties of the Fourth Survey were all 
represented, as well as Ohio county, Virginia, each 
township being entitled to representation. There were 
more than two hundred delegates, and a larger crowd 
had gathered from the surrounding country, to take note 
of the proceedings. The Mingo region in particular 
was well represented. Hear by had been erected that 
morning a tall pole, carrying a streamer with the de- 

* The exact spot where the open-air gathering convened was on 
the hill, directly back of the Episcopal church. 


Sim Greene. 


848 

vice, “ Equal Taxation and No Excise; No Asylum for 
Traitors and Cowards.” Many of the spectators had 
come armed. 

Colonel Cook was made chairman of the meeting and 
Albert Gallatin, secretary. The first speech was by 
David Bradford, and it was a fiery one. He rehearsed 
all that had been done since the coming of the Mar- 
shal, putting the best construction on everything for 
the insurgents, telling finally of the march on Pitts- 
burgh and the expulsion of the objectionable persons. 
At this point he read the stolen letters and commented 
on their contents in severe terms, advocating like ac- 
tion, or more severe, for all who would aid the govern- 
ment by assisting or approving the execution of the 
excise law. 

Marshel also supported resistance, but was not so 
radical as Bradford, and he ended by submitting a 
series of resolutions pledging support to the continued 
resistance to the law. Gallatin and Brackenridge 
sought to prevent this, but had to be very circumspect, 
and the latter, with his usual diplomacy, succeeded in 
making the insurgents believe he was working in their 
interest. These two contrived with success in having 
a committee appointed, of which they were both mem- 
bers, for consideration of the resolutions, to report the 
following day. 

This was probably high tide of the Whisky In- 
surrection — the culmination of the popular frenzy. 
That afternoon it was announced that commissioners 
appointed by the President and the Governor were at 
the Black Horse tavern, but a few miles beyond the Mo- 
nongahela, and at the same time came intelligence of 
the calling out of troops by the President for the sup- 


Sim Greene. 


249 


pression of the Insurrection. From that time leaders 
who had been secretly opposed to violence and anxious 
to have the peace maintained were emboldened to take 
a firmer stand, and some who had been actively engaged 
in resistance were decidedly lukewarm in the cause. 
Marshel from that hour acted with the friends of order. 

But Bradford became more violent than ever. When 
the meeting reassembled he made a most incendiary 
speech in which he demanded that measures be taken 
to repel the “ invasion,” declaring that such a show of 
strength would overawe the government and deter it 
from sending the proposed expedition. Then he 
launched forth into one of his characteristic harangues. 

“ We can hold our rights if we stand together as 
men,” said he. “ What allegiance do we owe to the 
government beyond the mountains ? Has it ever given 
us any protection ? Ho ; we have had to defend our- 
selves in times of danger. Has it given us equality or 
justice ? Ho ; it has ground us down, and is now trying 
to exact the last penny from the men who need it for 
the sustenance of their wives and little ones. And why 
should we be taxed, if we receive no benefit from the 
taxation ? That was one of the things we fought against 
in the seventies. Another thing we fought against was 
the iniquitous Stamp Act, and this is like unto it. And 
we fought against the taking of persons beyond the sea 
for trial; now we are required to go beyond the moun- 
tains when a Federal prosecution is brought against us, 
and its cost means the ruin of a poor man. I tell you, 
my friends, we need a new declaration of independence. 
Shall we not make it ? I am here to help make it, and 
to fight for it if need be ! ” 

He urged this and much more along the same line, 


350 


Sim Greene 


and it was evident that many men in the crowd round 
about were with him in the sentiment enunciated. But 
the delegates were representative men from their several 
townships, and many of them were sobered by the intelli- 
gence that the government was preparing to strike in 
earnest. It was realized that, acting in their important 
capacity, they would be marked men, and this had a 
tendency to curb even many among them who had been 
leaders in resistance theretofore. The resolutions were 
tame, indeed, as they came from the hands of the com- 
mittee, making an appeal for the repeal of the excise 
law and providing for the appointment of two commit- 
tees — one to be of sixty members and to be a standing 
committee, to have general charge of the interests of 
the western people, and the other, appointed by the 
standing committee, to be a committee of conference, 
to meet the commissioners from the general and state 
governments. The resolutions as amended were writr 
ten largely by Mr. Gallatin. They were finally adopted, 
practically as they came from his pen, but not without 
some opposition from those who demanded a more em- 
phatic declaration. That was all the meeting did, but 
it was the beginning of the end. 

It must not be thought that this brought an end of 
the reign of terror in the region. Far from it. Those 
who were determined to continue resisting the execu- 
tion of the excise law were more set in their purpose 
than ever before. Tom the Tinker’s warnings were 
more numerous than at any time in the past, and he 
struck wherever and whenever the warning failed to 
have the effect intended. Meetings were held all over 
the country, addressed by fiery orators who gave utter- 
ance to the most incendiary and treasonable sentiment. 


Sim Greene. 


251 


Numerous outrages were perpetrated in the more ob- 
scure sections. Bradford had sent out letters and ad- 
dresses wherever he thought they would be effective in 
stirring up the people against the government, and now 
threw off the mask entirely, declaring for the creation 
of an independent government. * 

It was in this time of turmoil that the commission- 
ers and the committee of conference met in Pittsburgh. 
Each side made propositions of settlement, but that of 
the commissioners representing the government laid 
down the unalterable condition that there must be full 
and satisfactory assurances of a sincere determination 
on the part of the people to obey the laws of the United 
States. These were the only conditions on which they 
were authorized to act, but if the conditions were met, 
they could promise general amnesty and pardon for past 
offenses. The committee agreed to report in favor of 
accepting these conditions, Bradford, at the head of a 
small minority, dissenting. This committee of confer- 
ence was not empowered to enter into any engagement 
with the commissioners, but could only report to the 
larger committee which had appointed it. 

While this conference was in session in Pittsburgh a 
proclamation of Tom the Tinker was posted on the 
house in which it met and published in the Gazette, 
presumably under the same “ persuasion ” which had 
secured the insertion of former contributions from the 
same pen. For Mr. Scull, the editor, was the friend 
of law and the government all through the troubles. 
Its references to the commissioners were insulting, and 
it held the Jersey militia up to ridicule, calling them 
“ the watermelon army,” and telling them they “ had 
better stay at home and thrash their buckwheat, or if 


252 


Sim Greene. 


they must fight, to make war on the crabs and oysters 
of their native bays, rather than meet the valiant Whisky 
Boys.” 

This taunt greatly embittered the New Jersey sol- 
diers when it came to their ears, and when finally they 
crossed the mountains they were swearing vengeance 
on the insurgents. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


WHAT THE BIRD AND SQUIRREL SAW. 

E VER since the affairs at Hevill’s Harold had felt 
a change toward him in the demeanor of those 
actively enlisted in opposition to the excise. 
He thought as I did about that question, and was con- 
vinced that active opposition to the law and obstruction 
of its operation were wrong. Some argument there 
had been between him and his father over this matter, 
when the latter was in condition to talk intelligently, 
the elder Harden being rabid in his opposition. But 
beyond that Harold had maintained a discreet silence. 
Indeed, those of us who felt that resistance was wrong 
found it a wise policy to pursue this course through 
those troubled times. 

It is hard now, removed so far in time and all sur- 
rounding circumstances from that period, to get an ade- 
quate idea of the indefinable uncertainty and dread in 
which many men lived. I refer to those who took no 
active part in the Insurrection. Ho man knew just 
how far to trust his next neighbor. However much he 
might be opposed to violence, he feared that anyone to 
whom he should speak might be of another way of 
thinking, and that he himself might be suspected of dis- 
loyalty to “ the cause,” to find proof of which was the 
neighbor’s chief object. It was known that a powerful 
secret organization existed, and that its hidden hand 
was likely at any time to strike the one whose words or 

253 


254 


Sim Greene. 


conduct gave offense to it. But the uninitiated could 
not tell who of his friends and acquaintances were of 
its members. Life itself was felt to be insecure, and 
vague apprehension hung over all. 

Until the time mentioned the known attitude of the 
elder Harden had shielded his son from suspicion, but 
since then he was made repeatedly to feel that he was 
regarded with a distrust which was rapidly growing into 
open animosity. This was manifested by hints thrown 
out a number of times in his presence, by persons who 
were open sympathizers with or participants in the op- 
position. Ho open violence had yet been shown him, 
but the growing hostility towards him was unmistak- 
able. He spoke to me about it, and all I could advise 
was that he be discreet and give no further occasion 
for suspicion on their part. I was troubled a good deal 
just then about the boy myself, for the story told by 
some of those who had been in the party that made the 
first attack on Hevill’s house had come to my ears, and 
it represented Harold as being there, under circum- 
stances which seemed to justify the suspicion on their 
part that it was in a capacity unfriendly to their in- 
terests. 

I had always had the utmost confidence in his truth- 
fulness and uprightness. He had told me that he was 
not there when the first attack was made. But then 
there was that strange scene between him and General 
Hevill — how was it to b.e accounted for? Could it 
be possible there was collusion between them, and the 
old man’s anger was only a pretense ? I dismissed the 
thought almost as soon as it was formed. The In- 
spector’s manner was not to be mistaken and his rage 
was too real to admit of the theory that he was dis- 


Sim Greene. 


255 


sembling. Besides, why should he have put on such 
a front if he did not mean all he said? The whole 
thing was a puzzle to me. Both parties to the strife 
of that day declared he was there, and each insisted 
that he was friendly to the other. He denied both, but 
had offered no further explanation than that he was 
hunting that day in another direction. I could not 
quite bring myself to the point of believing him untruth- 
ful, yet how could this testimony be disposed of, com- 
ing from the two sources so antagonistic to each other 
that there was no possibility of collusion ? 

The more I thought of it the more helplessly I be- 
came entangled in the doubt and uncertainty of it all. 
Harold was not the person to give confidences readily 
nor to welcome any efforts to pry into his affairs. I 
knew him better than to try to do this, so I kept quiet, 
thinking he might conclude to tell me more of the matter 
soon, for I felt that I was in his confidence more than 
any other person. I did venture to give one other piece 
of advice, and that was for him to keep within the vil- 
lage for the present, and so not expose himself so much 
to any danger that might exist for him. There had 
not up to that time been any disorder there, and I think 
it was largely due to the great influence exerted by 
Colonel Bayard and the universal respect felt for him. 
Harold looked at me in some surprise when I made this 
suggestion, and said : 

“ Do you think I am afraid ? ” 

I did not, and told him so. Of one thing I was well 
assured — Harold Harden was no coward. But I 
thought it was in line with the discretion I had coun- 
selled, and pressed him to do as I advised. He rebelled 
at the idea of making a prisoner of himself, and it was 


256 


Sim Greene. 


asking a great deal, for it was his delight to he in the 
woods. He would not promise absolutely to stay within 
the village, but said he would be careful while there 
might he any danger for him, but did not think this 
would he for long. 

It was about this time that Mabel came for a visit 
to the Bayard home, which lasted some weeks. Her 
sister had insisted on this. Mary was now able to look 
after the household again. Mabel had been unremit- 
ting in this duty and in attendance on her sick sister 
in the weeks before. Mary had pressed Mabel to make 
the visit, and as she really seemed to desire to be alone 
the girl had acceded. 

It was on the Sunday after her coming that she and 
Harold started off together to go to chruch. Services 
were not held that day at Bound Hill, so they wended 
their way to the Forks meeting-house of the Associate 
Beformed people, about an equal distance out from the 
village. The building was a square one of log con- 
struction, much like others which have been described 
in these pages.* The young people greatly enjoyed the 
walk of three miles over hills and through vales to 
reach it. Harold was in a quiet mood, but Mabel was 
unusually vivacious, and chattered about many things 
as they went along. Though now a tall girl of eighteen, 
and matured in many ways, she was scarcely more than 
a child in others. 

They saw many people on the way to services, and 
soon after their arrival the meeting was opened by the 
pastor, the Beverend Matthew Henderson, a tall and 
solemn looking man, who prayed and announced and 

* It was many years after this that a brick church was built on 
the same site and the name changed to Bethesda. 


Sim Greene. 


357 


read the psalm. It was the Ninety-fifth, and the tune 
selected for it was Mear, noble old composition, but 
not specially adapted to rendering it the vehicle of mak- 
ing “ a joyful noise.” But the fathers in the exclusive 
psalm-singing churches were considerably restricted in 
their choice of tunes, a collection of twelve only having 
the stamp of approval among them, and these having 
to do service for all the various meters in their version 
of the Psalms. 

The clerk, good old Matthew Jamison, now arose and 
led the congregation in the singing. He was possessed 
of a voice of considerable power and of wonderful 
flexibility, else he could not have executed the marvel- 
lous feats of vocal agility that his rendering of the 
stately old Welsh tune demanded. If old Aaron Wil- 
liams had come forth from his grave and heard it he 
would have been amazed at the additions made to it 
since it left his hands, if, indeed, he had recognized it 
at all. Musical notation does not afford the characters 
with which fully to represent all the turns, trills, runs, 
appoggiaturas, cadenzas, portamento effects and other 
embellishments given the good old tune by the precentor. 
The congregation essayed to follow him in these vocal 
gymnastics, but only partially succeeded. Notes can 
only approximate it, but as far as they can I will give 
the opening stanza. 

Bead (in a singsong tone) : — 

Oh, come, let us sing to the Lord, 

Sung : — 


«N5 


. Q - ^ ■- K» 



— | N-l mar 




-rav-p rzrwrvr_ 





m 

=F 

L — ■ 




Oh, come, let us sing to, the Lord, 
17 


258 


Sim Greene. 


Read : — 

Come, let us everyone. 


Sung : — 



Come, let us ev - 'ry one 


Read : — 

A joyful noise make to the Eock 


Sung : — 



A joy - ful noise make to the Rock. 


Read : — 

Of our salva-shi-on. 


Sung : — 



Of our sal - va - shi - - on. 


■ Now , do not for a moment think I am making sport 
of the good old precentor and those who sang under 
his direction, for I am not. It was their way, and I 
am describing things as they were. I am convinced 
that there was more devout worship in that singing than 
there is in much of the performance of salaried singers 


Sim Greene. 


259 


with its accompaniment of grand organ in our day. 
Nor was this a peculiarity of the Associate Reformed 
people alone, the predecessors of that eminently re- 
spectable body of Christians that in our day are known 
as United Presbyterians. There were some of the good 
Methodist sisters who worshipped at Fell’s church and 
some of our own Presbyterians that in vocal acrobatics 
could give Father Jamison no mean competition for 
his laurels. 

The sermon occupied an hour and a half in its de- 
livery, and was a learned disquisition on doctrinal 
points, dwelling on the eternal decrees, imputed right- 
eousness, the dreadful state of the impenitent through 
all eternity and the final perseverance of the saints. 
The sermon, along with the three prayers, more sing- 
ing and the explaining of the psalm, extended the serv- 
ice to a length of more than three hours, and the noon 
hour was well past when Harold and Mabel started on 
their return. There was to be another service in the 
afternoon, for which most of the people remained. 

Harold maintained his reserve. If his companion 
noticed it she gave no evidence, but went on chattering 
about various matters, getting a monosyllabic response 
from him now and then, as she addressed a question tq 
him. The fact of the matter was the young ipan was 
doing a great deal of thinking, and the subject of fiis 
thoughts will probably be guessed without any mention 
by me. He was very much ip love with the bright 
young creature by his side, and was turning over in his 
mind two questions first, whether it were not better 
now to tell her of it, and second how to proceed in such 
a declaration, For, as has been intimated before, he 
was painfully backward in some ways. 


860 


Sim Greene. 


Why should he longer hesitate about declaring hia 
passion ? he asked himself. What he had conceived to 
bo an insurmountable obstacle, in the disgrace of his 
father’s doings, was now removed. But how should he 
go about it ? What should he say first ? 

This train of thought had a sudden and rude inter- 
ruption. They were passing through a piece of wood- 
land, by a winding path, when they suddenly met a 
group of young men, some of whom were from the 
village and some from the near-by country. Jim 
Wherry was of the party, and when he saw Harold he 
stopped and said to his companions: 

“ Here’s Harden now. Mebbe he can tell us what 
he was doing at old Hevill’s that day. What ye got 
to say about it, Mr. Harold Harden ? ” 

Harold perceived that the speaker showed the effects 
of recent drinking, and that some of the other members 
of the party gave like evidence. He said : 

“ I beg to remind you that there is a lady present, 
and that my first duty is to her. If you have business 
with me and will make it known at a time when I am 
alone I will give it attention. Let us pass, please.” 

“ Oh, I guess what we want to know will not hurt 
the young lady, and your telling of it will not hurt you 
in her eyes, if you’re the very proper young man you 
set yourself up to be, and can give a good account of 
yourself at that time,” said ’Wherry, with a sneer. He 
had never liked Harold since the drubbing the latter 
gave him on the school ground, and had always cher- 
ished the hope of getting even with him for it. “ I 
guess my old schoolmate is not going to dismiss me in 
that fashion, hey, Mabel ? ” he said, turning to her with 
a smirk. 


Sim Greene. 


261 


Harold was boiling with indignation, and only the 
presence of the girl by his side prevented him from 
striking the fellow where he stood, though it was the 
Sabbath and he was on his way home from worship. 
Hot even all of these restraints could have held him 
within bounds much longer, but the girl now took an 
unexpected part, moving forward a step. 

“ Don’t speak to me ! ” she cried, stamping her little 
foot, and with indignation in her voice. “ Aren’t you 
ashamed, half a dozen of you, trying to pick a quarrel 
here on a lonely road with one man, and in the presence 
of a girl ! Only cowards would do that. And you, 
Jim Wherry, you know you would not dare, away from 
your crowd, to start a quarrel with Harold Harden. 
You know what it meant to you before. And now, be- 
gone ! Everyone of you, go ! ” she exclaimed, advanc- 
ing a step nearer to the now speechless bully. And 
actually he obeyed, sidling off from her and moving 
on along the path, muttering something about u seeing 
him again.” And his companions followed, some of 
them grinning broadly at their discomfited leader as 
they passed out of sight. 

Harold was lost in astonishment at this hitherto un- 
revealed trait in the girl before him. She, on her part, 
was now trembling violently, pale of face and clinging 
to his arm for support. The crowd had passed on, and 
he drew her a step aside from the path. She hung her 
head and her bosom heaved with half-suppressed sobs, 
as she quickly reflected that she had been very im- 
pulsive, and her actions and words might be construed 
to mean more than she had intended they should. How 
there was a tear in each beautiful eye, and the cheeks, 
so white just before, were suffused with blushes. For 


262 


Sim Greene. 


Harold deemed that she was in need of more support 
than was afforded by merely clinging to his arm, so put 
it around her. Perhaps it was a mean advantage to 
take of her agitation, but I am inclined to think he 
was in such a state of perturbation at the time that he 
scarcely realized what he was doing. 

A little bird on a hough just above was pouring forth 
a flood of melody, and a squirrel was perched near by, 
an interested spectator of the scene below. 

The love of years now swept over the young man and 
imperatively demanded expression. But he forgot all 
the set phrases he had been formulating for an hour 
before, and blurted out: 

“ Mabel, may I kiss you ? ” 

She averted her face and the long lashes sw'ept lower 
over the downcast eyes, as she replied, scarcely above a 
whisper : 

“ That would not he proper.” 

“ Just one,” he pleaded, bending towards her. “ May 
I not, just one.” 

She turned her face a little farther away, hut his 
followed it, then — 

“ Oh, Harold,” she exclaimed a minute later, freeing 
herself, “ and you said only one ! ” 

How I am not going to betray confidences. The 
world shall never know from me whether it was the 
bird or the squirrel that gave me the information, hut 
the bird for a time stopped its song and cocked its head 
to one side, peering down on the scene, and both of 
them distinctly heard six low, peculiar sounds such as 
birds and squirrels cannot imitate. 

Then a rosy-cheeked maiden and a youth with a new 


Sim Greene. 263 

light in his eyes resumed their walk, neither of the two 
looking unhappy. 

“ You must never do that again,” said she. 

He would not promise. 

“ Well, not until — not for a long time, anyway,” 
she insisted. 

That was all that was said then, hut somehow, after 
that, there seemed to be an understanding of a new 
relationship between them. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A CRISIS PASSED. 

A S the time drew nigh for the general committee 
to meet and hear the report of the committee of 
conference with the commissioners the turmoil 
throughout the country increased. Bradford and his 
agents redoubled their efforts to stir up opposition to 
the acceptance of such terms as were proposed by the 
government. Meetings were held, fiery speeches de- 
livered and there were many parades of noisy, turbulent 
men. It was charged by the speakers at these gather- 
ings that a majority of the committee representing the 
people had been unduly influenced by the commission- 
ers with the use of money. Everything was done to 
inflame the public mind and bring pressure to bear to 
secure a different report than had been agreed on by a 
majority of the committee, though in its meeting Brad- 
ford had pretended to submit to the judgment of the 
majority, and said he would join in their report. 

Tom the Tinker was heard from along the same line. 
John Gaston, who lived in the Peters creek valley, got 
up one morning and found a written notice, of which 
the following is a copy, posted on his front door : 

To John Gaston: 

Sir, — You will have this printed in the Pittsburgh 
paper this week, or you may abide by the consequences. 
Poor Tom takes this opportunity to inform his friends 
264 


Sim Greene. 


265 


throughout all the country that he is obliged to take up 
his commission once more, though this is disagreeable to 
his inclination. I thought when I laid down my commis- 
sion before that we had got the country so well united 
that there would have been no more for me in that line, 
but my friends see more need for me now than ever. 
They chose a set of men whom they thought they could 
confide in, but find themselves much mistaken, for the 
majority of them have proved traitors. Four or five big 
men below have scared a great many, but few are killed 
yet. I hope none of those are any that ever pretended 
to be a friend of Poor Tom. So I would have all my 
friends keep up their spirits and stand to their integrity, 
for their rights and liberty, and you will find Poor Tom 
to be your friend. This is fair warning. Traitors ! take 
care, for my hammer is up, my ladle is hot; I cannot 
travel the country for nothing! From your old friend, 

Tom the Tinker. 

This was sent promptly to the newspaper and was 
promptly printed. 

Thus matters stood when the meeting of the general 
committee was held, to hear and act on the report of 
the conference committee. It was at Brownsville, two 
weeks after the gathering at Parkinson’s Ferry, and all 
of its sixty members except three were present. Its 
deliberations occupied two days, and there the leaders 
who were bent on continuing forcible resistance to the 
government made their last desperate stand. They em- 
ployed every means, short of physical attack on the 
members of the committee favorable to submission, to 
intimidate them and prevent the adoption of the reso- 
lutions to be submitted by the conference committee. 

A tall pole had been erected by the insurgents at the 
place of the gathering, and there floated from it, besides 


266 


Sim Greene. 


the streamers with their usual declarations, a flag whose 
field showed but seven instead of the usual thirteen 
stars. This was one for each county in revolt, and it 
was recognized as the standard of that new state which 
it was now boldly proposed to form and to be declared 
independent of the United States. 

On the first day of the meeting a party of seventy 
armed insurgents marched into the place and took up 
their position near to where the open-air meeting of 
the committee was to be held. These men, with many 
others who had gathered from the surrounding country, 
encircled the meeting and frequently gave evidence of 
disapproval of anything that looked like surrender, 
while they loudly cheered every proposition to continue 
the opposition. 

Printed bills were distributed at the meeting with 
the signature of Tom the Tinker, which declared that 
“ Poor old Tom still travels the country with his bear- 
skin budget. He will not fail to call on any who so 
far forget their duty to country as to be swayed by the 
commissioners who came over the mountains with their 
saddle-bags filled with gold. The committee was 
bribed at Pittsburgh by the commissioners, and induced 
to agree to an amnesty. Beware! Tar, feathers and 
burning for any who vote for submission ! ” 

It required courage of the highest sort to stand for 
the right under such circumstances. I have spoken of 
the meeting of two weeks before as, in my judgment, 
high tide of the Insurrection, but here was a crisis 
fraught with even greater peril to individuals who had 
to lead in the move for submission. The army was yet 
beyond the mountains and, indeed, was not yet formed. 
The masses of the people were set on resistance and 


Sim Greene. 


267 


their minds were highly inflamed. The machinery of 
justice was wholly inoperative and its agents were either 
powerless to act or openly committed to the forces of 
the opposition. That there was not then a bloody war 
was due primarily to the fact of weak leadership. The 
one man whose word would have caused thousands of 
men to spring into line and follow him faltered, as he 
did at Braddock’s Field, and did not utter the word. 
Words many, hot and brave had he, it is true, but he did 
not say, “ Come, follow me ! ” and then leap into action. 
He failed in the crucial moment each time, and well 
it was for the young republic that this was so. 

Those who stood openly for submission in that gath- 
ering did it in the face of all these conditions. It was 
an exhibition of lofty courage in a stand for the right 
which entitles these men of the western border to a 
high place among the world’s heroes. 

The report of the committee was read, specifying the 
promise by the commissioners on the part of the gov- 
ernment of amnesty on condition of complete and gen- 
eral submission by the people, coupled with the recom- 
mendation of the conference committee that it be ac- 
cepted. A murmur of disapproval was heard all 
around, especially on the part of the onlookers. Brad- 
ford then arose and urged the rejection of the terms 
without delay. He said the terms were so degrading 
that no one possessing the spirit of a freeman would 
hesitate a moment, and harangued for a time in his 
characteristic style. Then James Edgar arose — good 
old Elder Edgar, of Washington county — who in a 
strain of the keenest irony pleaded for a little time for 
consideration. 

“ The eloquent gentleman, : ” said he, “ can see by in- 


268 


Sim Greene. 


tuition into the most difficult subjects, and when he 
sees the path of duty plain before him has the courage 
and skill adequate to every consequence. For my part, 
I am slow of apprehension; I cannot, like the gentle- 
man who has urged an immediate decision, know what 
might be said against the motion. I want a little time 
to think the subject over, and perhaps I may be able 
to see my way clear to follow the gentleman. There 
may be others in the same state of mind as myself, and 
I appeal to the gentleman’s acknowledged candor and 
liberality to give his weaker brethren a little time to 
think of the subject. For unanimity in so important 
a crisis is greatly to be desired.” 

The irony was wholly lost on Bradford, who took it 
for a sincere tribute to his learning, talents and pene- 
tration. He withdrew his plea for an immediate vote, 
and adjournment until the next morning followed. 

When the second day’s session convened the insurgent 
forces were still in an ugly frame of mind, though 
fortunately most of the armed band had gone. There 
was talk of influential members of the conference com- 
mittee having used their talents to bring others around 
to their way of thinking, and of calling them to account 
for this. Mr. Gallatin, by appointment of his asso- 
ciates, opened the case for the committee. He spoke for 
nearly three hours, and it was one of the greatest ef- 
forts of his life. Only the barest outline of what he 
said can be attempted here. 

He traced the difference between the case of the peo- 
ple of the western counties and the cause of the Ameri- 
can Revolution. Ho principle had been violated in the 
present case ; the West had been represented in making 
the law. He told of the alterations that had been made 


Sim Greene. 


269 


in the law to make it less onerous. In principle he was 
opposed to it and he hoped to see it repealed, but only 
peaceable means to that end were justifiable. If the 
people persisted in their opposition it would have the 
effect of weakening the spirit of liberty itself, for illegal 
opposition, when reduced, has a tendency to make the 
people abject and the government tyrannic. He de- 
nounced the atrocity of undermining so fair a fabric 
as that of our government, which was superior to all 
that had ever been ; made an estimate of what would 
be lost and what gained even by success ; and closed by 
declaring the futility of an attempt to continue the 
struggle against the great power of the government. 

Mr. Gallatin was followed by Mr. Brackenridge, who 
also spoke at considerable length. He reminded his 
hearers that the alternative of refusing the proposition 
of the commissioners would be war. Were they pre- 
pared for that, and did they know what its consequences 
would be ? Where would come the armies, the military 
stores, the treasury ? Could the people of a few coun- 
ties for a minute calmly contemplate the folly of going 
to war with fifteen states, with Washington at their 
head ? They knew his benevolence, but they also knew 
his firmness and tenacity of purpose. Hi3 duty would 
require him to call forth the whole energy and power of 
the nation to put down such a rebellion. Did they sup- 
pose he would shrink from duty ? The country would 
be laid waste, towns destroyed, many lives lost, and 
then nothing could be gained in the end, and the con- 
dition of the inhabitants would be worse than at present. 
The speaker appealed to the consciences of his hearers. 
They owed a part of the debt contracted by the war for 
independence ; was it honorable to quit the confederacy 


270 


Sim Greene. 


without discharging their share of that debt ? The offer 
of amnesty by the President was a generous one, in view 
of all that had gone before. Could they afford to 
slight it? 

Thus and with many more arguments did the speaker 
present the case of the committee, and he was followed 
by Mr. Edgar in a like strain. Bradford was the last 
speaker, and he was urged forward by his followers, who 
deemed their case now in a desperate strait. It was 
one of his most violent fits of declamation, and he be- 
gan by declaring himself “ still for war ! ” 

“ It is dastardly to talk of property when liberty is 
at stake, and cowardly to say we have no means of re- 
sistance when we have thousands of brave men who 
know how to fight, having learned in the hard school 
of war. We will defeat the first army that attempts to 
cross the mountains. We will seize their arms and bag- 
gage, and then organize an army that will prevent any 
further attempt. Do you think it would be difficult 
thus to arm and equip an army? The French have 
shown us how. In the mountain gorges, through which 
the soldiers would be forced to pass, one man could 
overcome four, and an army could be annihilated by 
rolling stones down on them.” 

Continuing, he alluded to the revolutions in America 
and France as models worthy of imitation, and as in- 
ducements to hope for success of these counties in es- 
caping the tyranny and oppression under which they 
were groaning. He stated his belief in the ability of 
the western country, separated as it was from the East 
by the mountains, to prosecute a successful war and to 
attain independence. He then boldly declared for a 
new state, with an independent government, and dwelt 


Sim Greene. 


271 


on the glories it would achieve as the empire of the 
west. The speech was wildly cheered by many of the 
hearers. 

Ten hours had now been consumed in oratory. Mr. 
Gallatin moved that a vote be taken on the proposition 
of the commissioners. Objection was made to a vote, 
and when the question was put, shall there be a vote? 
it was lost. On the supposition that there might be re- 
luctance among many members of the committee to let 
their sentiments be known, it was now proposed that 
there be a vote by ballot, but some thought this would 
not remove the difficulty, for the handwriting might 
reveal the way many had voted, and that proposition 
was also voted down. 

Now a member of the committee suggested a way 
around the difficulty. It was that as many ballots be pre- 
pared as there were members of the committee, having 
written on one end yea and on the other nay, all in the 
handwriting of the secretary. One should be given to 
each person entitled to vote, and the voter should tear 
it in two, voting his sentiment with one end and de- 
stroying the other end. This was adopted, as promis- 
ing an absolutely secret ballot, and yet ascertaining the 
mind of the committee on the proposition before it. It 
shows how the state that had existed in the country for 
three years had affected men, and the fear those who 
secretly favored submission had of declaring their sen- 
timent, lest they should be in a minority, and thus be 
marked men in the future. 

But the ballot showed them to be decidedly in the 
majority on the committee, a count revealing thirty- 
four yeas and twenty-three nays. It was curious to 
observe the effect of the announcement. Friends of 


272 


Sim Greene. 


order and law were really surprised to know their own 
strength, and at once they put on bolder countenance. 
They felt that the reign of terror was now practically 
over. It was, though the troubles of the western coun- 
try resulting from the Insurrection were not yet at an 
end. Rage and disappointment marked the counte- 
nances of the leaders in the movement of opposition to 
the law, but they were sullen and silent. It would be 
interesting to know just what was the measure of in- 
fluence in the powerful speeches of the day in changing 
men’s minds, but of course that cannot be known. 

Bradford seemed to realize that his power and influ- 
ence were at an end, and he left the place soon after the 
result of the vote was announced. He remained in 
retirement for a time, then came forward among the 
first of those to sign the submission. But, on the ap- 
proach of the army, he seemed to realize that this act 
would not palliate his offense, and made his escape from 
the country. We shall have one more view of him be- 
fore he finally passes from the scene. 

The spectators now rapidly dispersed, and the com- 
mittee was left almost alone to complete its work. This 
was soon done, the main resolution adopted being that 
it was the sense of the committee that it was to the best 
interest of the western people to accede to the proposals 
made by the commissioners. Unfortunately it did not 
stop there, but, instead of giving the assurance of sub- 
mission demanded by the commissioners as one of the 
conditions of amnesty, it manifested a disposition to 
temporize. There was enough of the old spirit remain- 
ing in the committee (or perhaps it was prompted by a 
wish to placate the many that it was known would con- 
demn such action) to bring about the adoption of 


Sim Greene. 


273 


another resolution which asked for a modification of the 
terms proposed to the people and more time for them 
to consider the matter. This having been adopted, the 
meeting adjourned. 

This last act was unfortunate, for its only result was 
to prolong and intensify the troubles of the western 
people. 


18 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


A RUDE AWAKENING. 

T HE meeting at Brownsville was the last of its 
kind. It practically ended armed resistance, 
just as this had its beginning in a meeting at 
the same place three years before. There were further 
meetings, it is true, but they were committee gatherings, 
in the effort to secure modification of the terms of sub- 
mission, and later, assemblages of alarmed people to 
avert, if possible, the consequences of their earlier folly. 
There were also, for a time, isolated instances of dis- 
order, for many people were still in an ugly mood, but 
these were rather the muttering thunders of the abating 
than of a coming storm. 

The Brownsville meeting appointed a new conference 
committee. The commissioners for the government re- 
fused to grant any modification of the terms, saying 
they had no authority, even if they had the wish, to 
change the measures so wisely and kindly devised by 
Washington. They agreed to grant a reasonable time 
for an expression on submission from the people gen- 
erally, but expressed disappointment that the commit- 
tee was not able to make a more complete and satis- 
factory report on this phase of the question. 

A few days later a new committee appeared, but to 
what source of authority it owed its being it did not 
state. It asked of the commissioners that assurances 
of an indemnity for arrearages of excise be given to all 
274 


Sim Greene. 


275 


persons who had not entered their stills, and that an 
extension of one month beyond the time already fixed 
be given, in which to learn the mind of the people gen- 
erally as to submission. This further manifestation of 
a desire to temporize had its effect on the commission- 
ers, and they replied with promptness and emphasis 
that the first proposal could not be considered by them, 
and that the general vote on submission would be taken 
on the date first fixed, then ten days in the future. 

It was required that all citizens of the Fourth Sur- 
vey, of the age of eighteen years and over, should meet 
on the day designated, in their several townships, and 
vote, yea or nay, on these two propositions : “ Do you 

now engage to submit to the laws of the United States, 
and that you will not hereafter, directly or indirectly, 
oppose the execution of the acts for raising the revenue 
upon distilled spirits and stills? And do you under- 
take to support, as far as the law requires, the civil 
authorities in affording the protection due to all officers 
and other citizens ? ” Those who voted yea were re- 
quired to sign a statement of the same import. 

The vote showed that less than one-fourth of the num- 
ber of taxables, and probably less than one-sixth of those 
classed as voters for this purpose, voted for submission. 
The vote against submission was much smaller than this, 
but many of the notoriously unrepentant refused to vote 
at all. To these were to be added the many who had 
taken no active part in the resistance to the excise, and 
who refused to vote because they said that would be an 
admission on their part, that they had been in rebellion. 
On the other hand, many who would have voted for sub- 
mission were deterred by the threats that had been made 
in Tom the Tinker’s proclamations. Others were in- 


376 


Sim Greene. 


different, and in remote parts of the country there was 
not complete information on the matter, and voters did 
not know just what was required of them. 

The commissioners returned to the East and reported 
that the committee with whom they treated had failed 
to give the required assurance of submission on the part 
of the people, that the vote taken had been wholly un- 
satisfactory in giving such assurance, and that in their 
opinion the excise law could not yet be enforced in the 
western country by the officers appointed for that pur- 
pose. As a result of this the army, now mobilized and 
increased to fifteen thousand men, was ordered to take 
up its march over the mountains. It was to proceed in 
two wings — one, composed of the troops of eastern 
Pennsylvania and New Jersey, which would proceed 
by the Pennsylvania and Glade roads; the other, com- 
posed of Maryland and Virginia troops, to follow the 
old Braddock road into western Pennsylvania ; both 
wings to form a junction in the Forks of Youghiogheny, 
near the main center of disturbance in the years past. 

General Henry Lee, then Governor of Virginia, the 
“ Light-Horse Harry ” of Revolutionary fame, was 
made commander-in-chief of the army. Governors 
Ilowell and Mifflin respectively commanded the Hew 
Jersey and Pennsylvania troops, General Smith those 
of Maryland, and General Daniel Morgan, another hero 
of the Revolution, those of Virginia. The army, com- 
prising infantry, cavalry and artillery, all fully equip- 
ped for service, made a formidable array. 

A marked change now became apparent in the pre- 
vailing sentiment in the western country. For the first 
time some of the more violent of the insurgents seemed 
to be convinced that the government, long-suffering as 


Sim Greene. m 

it had been with them, was ready to take decisive action 
to enforce the laws and punish those who should attempt 
to obstruct the process. There were still minor and 
sporadic cases of disorder, but for the most part, the 
leaders in the opposition of years before were concerned 
in how to escape the consequences of their conduct. 
Another meeting was held at Parkinson*s Ferry, at- 
tended by delegates from all parts of the survey, and 
it appointed commissioners to proceed over the moun- 
tains and assure the President that the whole country 
was now pacified and submissive. Washington, who 
had come with the right wing of the army as far as 
Carlisle, received the commissioners kindly, gave them 
a patient hearing, but declined to stop the progress of 
•the army, the presence of which he was convinced was 
needed in the western country to bring complete sub- 
mission. But he assured the commissioners that no 
violence would attend the enforcement of the law if the 
army should meet with no resistance. 

Instructions in accordance- with this were issued to 
the army, and the proclamation of General Lee, on the 
occasion of his arrival at Uniontown, breathed the same 
spirit. There another commission met him, appointed 
on receiving the report of the first one, and gave as- 
surance of complete submission. General Lee received 
the gentlemen courteously but replied that the best evi- 
dence of this would be the behavior of the people in the 
future. The two wings of the army then advanced and 
formed a junction at the Black Horse tavern, going into 
camp near there. Subsequently details were dispatched 
to various sections of the country to encamp, but the 
main body of the army remained in the Forks, and the 
commander-in-chief had his headquarters there. There 


378 


Sim Greene. 


1 

also was Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, who accompanied the army west, and participated 
in the judicial proceedings in connection with the in- 
quiry made of matters pertaining to the Insurrection. 
The Hey ills, father and son, came west with the army, 
and the Inspector soon reopened his office and put the 
collectors to work. 

While these things were engaging the country at large 
some people in whom we are particularly interested 
were having experiences none the less momentous to 
them. After the encounter of that Sunday on his way 
from church, Harold was made to feel more than ever 
the disfavor in which he was held by certain of the 
insurgents and their sympathizers. His aunt, becom- 
ing aware of this, besought him to leave the place for a 
time, for she was in terror for his life. She told him 
she could get along for any time that might be neces- 
sary, and could easily support herself with her knitting 
and baking. Both of these things she already did for 
some of the “ well-to-do ” families of the place. (We 
had no rich folk then.) Her bread and pies, in par- 
ticular, were famous. Harold had built her an out- 
oven, and the boat-yard, near their little home, fur- 
nished an unfailing supply of wood for heating it. 

Colonel Bayard would eat no other kind»of bread, 
declaring it far superior to the product of the iron 
Hutch-ovens which, set among and covered with hot 
ashes, furnished the almost universal method of baking 
then in use. Hannerybeck’s bread, baked on the bot- 
tom of her out-oven, was indeed delicious, and its fame 
was spreading. She urged Harold to leave and go 
down the river, as so many were then doing, to remain 
until danger to him was past. But he refused to go. 


Sim Greene. 


279 


And now came an experience to Harold of which I 
did not learn until long after, but which has its place 
here, that the reader may have a better understanding 
by getting the events in their proper sequence. 

Mabel was still at Bayard’s, and thither he bent his 
steps one evening just as dusk was falling. While he 
felt highly elated with the understanding that now 
seemed to exist between that young lady and himself, 
he felt that it was only proper that this matter be made 
clear. He wanted to marry her some day, and he was 
going to tell her all that was in his heart and ask her to 
wait for him. He went with elation, for what had 
passed between them convinced him that he had her 
love. 

He stepped briskly up to the porch which ran along 
the front of the Bayard house, and had his hand on 
the knocker, when a sight met his gaze which stopped 
him as suddenly as if he had come against a stone wall. 
He did not mean to play spy, but he could not help 
seeing what was plainly before his eyes, and what he 
saw sent a chill to his soul where just before had been 
joyous anticipation, and changed the course of his life 
from that* moment. 

The window blind was slightly drawn aside, and 
there was a bright light in the living room. On a sofa, 
directly in the line of his vision, Mabel was seated, and 
by her side was a figure in the Federal military uni- 
form, one glance only being necessary to reveal to 
Harold the familiar form and features of Ensign Frank 
Sample. The blue-sleeved arm was around Mabel’s 
waist, and both were laughing heartily. Harold even 
took’ in the detail that the soldier’s cap had not been 
removed, but was set jauntily a little to one side. Just 


280 


Sim Greene. 


as he looked the Ensign bent down and pressed a kiss 
on the unresisting lips of the girl. Then the man out- 
side turned and strode away, with all the joy and sun- 
shine gone out of his life. 

She had allowed Harold to kiss her, hut until this 
moment he had accounted for it on the belief * joyous 
to his heart, that she knew of his love and had for him 
a like affection. How, he thought bitterly, she was a 
heartless coquette. He knew she had many admirers 
and that in a way she enjoyed the court paid her, but 
he had never thought her what now appeared so evident. 
He knew also that Sample was one of her devoted ad- 
mirers, but he had never before discovered, even with 
a lover’s jealous eyes, any sign of particular favor for 
him. But now it was all plain — she had been trifling 
with him, and Sample was the favored man. The 
caress which had been coyly withheld until his insist- 
ence had gained it was freely and even gladly given to 
the soldier. They were laughing heartily about some- 
thing, and apparently were very merry as well as 
happy. Perhaps (and the thought caused him to grind 
his teeth in rage) they were laughing at him. 

He walked quickly to his own home, near by, and to 
his aunt he said he had changed his mind and con- 
cluded to leave, in accordance with her wishes. She 
noticed that he was very pale. 

“ Why, what’s the matter, Harold ? ” asked the kind 
soul. “ I’m glad you’ve decided to go, but something 
must ’ve happened. What was it ? Oh, some of 
them’s after you. I just know it. Go, quick, before 
they come ! ” 

Harold assured her that so far as he knew he was 
in no immediate danger, but he had concluded it was 


Sim Greene. 


281 


better for him to go, and to start that night. Ilis annt, 
who had been in terror for his safety, did not stop to 
argue or to make any further inquiries, but began to 
bustle about and help him with preparations for his 
departure. He told her that there was little he wanted 
to take — a change of clothing, his gun and its equip- 
ments, something to eat and a part of the money he 
had saved, leaving the remainder for her — these would 
be all he would need. She would not hear to the last 
part of the arrangement — would not touch a penny of 
his money, and tried to press on him a part of her little 
hoard in addition to what he had. She told him re- 
peatedly not to worry about her; she would get along 
all right. Then she told him she had seen a man lurk- 
ing about in the vicinity that very night, and her fears 
had connected him with her boy’s safety. She urged 
him to go without further delay. 

When the time came he found it harder to make the 
start than he had thought. He was going out into the 
unknown world to leave the only mother he ever knew, 
except as he had known a dream face and form since 
his childhood. Here was one heart that was faithful 
to him, and he was about to leave her ! How it seemed 
cowardly for him to do that, and he suddenly stopped 
and said he would not go, but would stay until their ar- 
rangements could be made, and she should go with him. 

“ Ho, no,” she sobbed, “ I cannot go. I’ll stay here. 
You’ll come back again when the danger’s over. But 
you must not stay another minute. Hurry! There’s 
a dearie,” and in her anxiety she employed the wheed- 
ling tone she had used when he was a little boy and 
she had coaxed him to do something she desired. He 
reflected that it would add greatly to the difficulties of 


282 


Sim Greene. 


the journey to take her, and there was no danger for 
her here. As she had said, she could get along, and 
he resolved to send her means from time to time, so she 
could get along better. So, after a long and close em- 
brace, he left her, going with his effects to the canoe 
moored in the river just below. A minute later he 
pushed out into the stream and was away. 

As soon as Harold left the house a man came from 
the shadow of a neighboring lumber pile, where he had 
been lurking, and took a position where he could watch 
him. It was Jim Wherry. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


A BAFFLED PURSUIT. 

A S Wherry watched the receding canoe he heard 
the trampling of horses’ feet on the street above, 
and going that way he soon encountered a squad 
of cavalry, just in from the encampment a few miles 
out from the village, where they had arrived the day 
before. The officer in command, a lieutenant, hailed 
Wherry and said: 

“ Say, my man, can you tell me where a young man 
named Harden lives — Harold Harden ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the reply. “ That is his home, that 
little house down there on the river bank, leastwise it 
was until about five minutes ago.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the officer, eyeing him 
sharply. “ Hone of your smartness with me. You 
fellows will not gain anything by trying to shield one 
another or to throw us off the trail. You say it was 
his home up to five minutes ago. Where is he now ? ” 
“ I mean that I just saw him kiss his old aunt and 
bid her good-bye, then carry his luggage out to his 
canoe and put off with it. As to where he is, I guess 
if you look sharp you can see something out there on 
the water, getting down stream pretty lively. That’s 
Harden.” 

“ Then, if you’re telling the truth, we’re just too late, 
and find the bird flown,” exclaimed the soldier, with an 
283 


284 Sim Greene. 

oath to add emphasis. “ Is there no way we can over- 
haul him ? ” 

“ Why,” said Wherry eagerly, glad of an opportunity 
to do something against his enemy, “ I have a big skiff 
right down there. It has three pairs of rowlocks, and 
will carry a dozen men. You can have it.” 

Wherry was secretly wondering why the soldiers were 
so anxious to capture Harold, since the insurgents, him- 
self among them, had been persecuting the same man 
on the ground that he had acted against their interests. 
He saw in this a chance also of getting in the good 
graces of the soldiers, and he might find this useful if 
called to account for some of the things he had been 
doing and saying. For he had been on both expeditions 
to the Nevill house, active in the disorder at Pittsburgh, 
and had since been loud in his championing of the 
cause of the insurgents. The Lieutenant promptly ac- 
cepted his offer, and leaving two of the men to take 
charge of the horses and to keep a watch on the Harden 
home, he quickly led the other six, with Wherry, to 
where the skiff was moored. Wherry told him of the 
riffie and chute below, and volunteered to do the steer- 
ing, a proposition which was gladly accepted when the 
Lieutenant understood what kind of a place it was. 
Accordingly, he seated himself in the stern and took 
the steering oar. Three of the men grasped the oars 
and the other three were to take their turns at the row- 
ing. They were soon churning the water at a lively 
rate, and the skiff was leaping forward under their 
steady pulling. 

“ Guess you fellows ? s been on the water before,” re- 
marked Wherry to the man alongside of him. 

“ Well, I reckon,” was the answer. “ This whole 


Sim Greene. 


285 


squad’s from Maryland. Been raised right on the 
Chesapeake, and take to the water like ducks.” 

“ What’s young Harden been doing ? ” ventured 
Wherry next. 

“ Oh, been cutting up some of the high jinks you 
fellows ’s been at out this way for some time. I heard 
the Lieutenant say he’s wanted for burning a house 
down, I think it was. Who is the old duck that was 
burned out ? ” 

“ Was it General Hevill ? ” asked Wherry. 

“ Yes, that’s the name. He’s in camp with General 
Lee now. He says this young man is one of the very 
few he can swear to as being there. He saw him on 
two different occasions and talked to him once.” 

How Wherry knew that Harold had not gone with 
his party the first day, and he had supposed that the 
young man came out of Hevill’ s house when they first 
got sight of him. He had not noticed him in the con- 
fusion of the second day. He did not understand the 
matter, but concluded the best thing for him was to 
keep quiet, and he did not pursue the matter further. 
The full moon was now shining in the east from an un- 
clouded sky, and the object of their pursuit could be 
seen in the distance. They seemed to be gaining on 
him. 

After paddling for a while Harold had ceased and 
allowed the canoe to drift along while he was lost in 
bitter reflections. The whole scene he had witnessed 
that night passed before him again, and maddened by 
the thoughts this brought he sprang up and again seized 
his paddle. He now became aware that others were 
abroad on the water, and their boat was drawing near 
to him. Hot desiring to meet anybody under present 


286 


Sim Greene, 


circumstances, lie began swiftly and powerfully to ply 
the paddle. Once he paused to glance back and listen, 
and it seemed to him that the people in the other boat 
had redoubled their efforts. He now sent his canoe 
flying over the water again, and soon was at the head of 
Bridendall chute. 

The water in the river at this time was fully as high 
as it was at the time of his adventure there with the 
two girls, and it required careful handling to get it 
through in safety. About all he could do was to hold 
the canoe in the center of the chute and allow the cur- 
rent to carry it along, getting in a stroke now and then 
to accelerate its already swift speed. Under other cir- 
cumstances he would not have done that, but he greatly 
desired to avoid meeting anybody, and he was possessed 
of a half reckless spirit unwonted in him. The water 
was high enough for him to get back of the wing-wall, 
towards the left shore, on approaching Burns’s riffle, 
and he determined to do that. If the other boat was on 
a mission farther down the river it would take the chute, 
and thus pass him. He hugged in close to the left 
shore, and made the passage of the riffle in safety, 
though his frail craft rocked in a threatening manner. 
But Harold was a good boatman and was not afraid. 

He now looked back and saw the skiff headed for 
the same place that he had come through. At an or- 
dinary stage of water it would not have been possible 
to navigate there, but now there was plenty of water 
on the shoal to float either craft, and the flat-bottomed 
skiff would ride the rapids more safely than his canoe. 
He was convinced that he was being pursued. He 
thought of Wherry and fancied he could recognize his 
big skiff in the craft that was following him. He sup- 


Sim Greene. 


287 


posed it was Wlierry and his gang, who had become 
aware of his departure and were seeking to take the oft- 
threatened vengeance on him. 

When he doubled the bend to the left below his pur- 
suers were not more than two hundred yards behind, 
and were apparently straining every nerve in the chase. 
He believed he could beat the heavy skiff in a race of 
moderate length, but in a long chase the pursuers could 
tire him out, with fresh men to put at the oars from 
time to time. It occurred to him to turn into Peters 
creek, the mouth of which he had almost reached, and 
he quickly changed his course and headed for it. Just 
before he reached it he saw his pursuers coming around 
the bend. His canoe now darted into the mouth of the 
creek. He hoped this movement had not been observed 
by those in pursuit, but could not be certain of this. 
He continued his course up the creek and had passed 
the first turn into the big bend when he suddenly re- 
membered the short passage across it that, he had dis- 
covered. That would be navigable at the existing stage 
of water. It was then too late to turn in there, but he 
thought this would aid him in eluding His pursuers and 
getting out on the river again, which was his hope when 
he turned into the creek. He resolved to return that 
way if his pursuers should continue to follow him. 

He paddled as rapidly as possible around the bend, 
and when he reached its farther extremity he left the 
channel and worked his canoe quietly among the wil- 
lows and into the short cut across the bend, which he 
found, as he expected, filled with sufficient water to float 
his craft. Proceeding quietly about half way across, 
he stopped to listen. The other party were indeed in 
pursuit still, and had just passed into the big bend. 


288 


Sim Greene. 


Their progress was not so fast as on the river, for they 
were looking into each clump of willows which they 
thought might screen the canoe. They thought they 
had their quarry caged, and could afford to proceed de- 
liberately. Harold could hear the low tones of their 
voices and the sounds produced by their oars, though 
they were evidently trying to proceed quietly. As he 
listened the sounds became fainter and he knew they 
were proceeding up the creek. 

When he was convinced that they were around the 
bend far enough to be out of sight from where he would 
emerge in the channel of the creek, he paddled quietly 
down, was soon in the stream again, and thence into the 
Monongahela, reaching which, he continued his course 
down the river. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A COUP DE PEEL. 

J IM WHERRY was reluctant to give up the search, 
but when it became apparent that Harold could 
not be found in the night he told the soldiers of 
the overland way to the village from the creek, and sug- 
gested that Harold might have taken that course, after 
concealing his canoe under the willows, so that they 
could not find it in the darkness. It was then they de- 
cided to return, as rapidly as possible. The Lieutenant 
did not have much faith in this theory, but concluding 
that nothing more could be done there that night, he 
posted two of his men at the mouth of the creek, to cap- 
ture the fugitive should he descend it, and the re- 
mainder of the party started up the river. 

It was a hard pull to stem the swift current with the 
big skiff, but the men were good oarsmen and finally 
traversed the distance, though it was after midnight 
when they completed the journey. The guard on the 
Harden house reported that no movement had been ob- 
served in or about it. The Lieutenant relieved one of 
them and left the other one, with instructions to inter- 
cept any man who should attempt to enter or leave it 
until he should return, and then he and his now thor- 
oughly tired men went to Clark’s, routed up that worthy 
host and turned in. 

Wherry volunteered to remain with the guard and 
keep him company on his watch. This offer was ac- 
19 289 


290 


• Sim Greene. 


cepted, for the man was already tired of his job and 
was doing some grumbling about being the one selected 
for this service. Wherry learned that his name was 
Sykes, and made himself as agreeable as possible to him. 
The guard was glad to have company on his watch, to 
while away the time and help him to stay awake. 

The night passed without anything being discovered 
by the watchers. No one had entered or left the little 
house. The light of morning was beginning to appear. 
The men had been talking from time to time, but of 
late conversation had flagged, and now Wherry saw that 
his companion was becoming drowsy and suggested to 
him that he would keep a sharp watch if the soldier 
would like to take a short nap. 

“ Guess you don’t know what that would mean for 
me if the Lieutenant came back and found me asleep, 
do you ? ” said Sykes. 

“ Oh, I would see to that, and would waken you in 
time,” replied Jim. 

The man really was very tired and sleepy, and as 
daylight was now coming, he thought he would take 
chances and try to catch a little nap. So, after charg- 
ing Wherry to keep a sharp watch and not to fail to 
awaken him if the officer or any of the men should 
be seen coming, he moved off a short distance and sat 
down with his back against a log and his gun between 
his knees, so as to appear merely in an attitude of rest 
should anyone come on him suddenly. He was soon 
asleep. 

Soon after that there were evidences of stir in the 
house. The volume of smoke from the chimney in- 
creased and the light of the replenished fire could be 
seen within. Wherry moved back to a position near 


Sim Greene. 


291 


his sleeping companion, where he could see and not 
readily be seen. Soon the door opened and Hannery- 
beck appeared. She was bearing a blazing brand which 
she carried to the oven and deposited in it, and then laid 
other sticks of wood on it from a pile near by, first 
small ones and then the larger. Soon there was a great 
fire blazing and crackling in the oven. 

The woman returned to the house and was busy there 
for a time, though she came out once or twice and re- 
plenished the fire in the oven. Finally she came out 
and with a long-handled scraper drew out the glowing 
ashes, which were all that now remained in the oven. 
Then, holding her hand in its open doorway, to test the 
heat, and seeming to be satisfied with it, she returned 
to the house and bore out, two at a time, twelve plump 
mounds of dough, each in its hand-made basket, where 
it had reposed before the fire while it “ raised,” as Han- 
nerybeck would have expressed it. These were, one 
after another, deftly turned from their baskets, each to 
a cabbage leaf on the oven-peel, and by that implement 
deposited within the oven, on its hot floor. The door 
was then closed and they were left to bake. 

It was now broad daylight, but the woman, busied 
with her duties and her thoughts, had not noticed the 
two men. Evidences of stir were apparent in the neigh- 
boring houses. Wherry concluded that he would do 
something to convince the soldiers of his zeal in the 
cause represented by them, so, quietly wakening his 
companion, he stepped forward and accosted the woman, 
who was about to return to the house. 

“ Good morning, Auntie,” said he. “ You are busy 
early this morning.” 

Hannerybeck gave him a look which should have 


292 Sim Greene. 

discouraged any further familiarity, and said, with evi- 
dent warmth: 

“ Yes, I am usually kept busy, attending to my own 
business, and I’ll thank you not to ‘ auntie ’ me.” 

“ Oh, excuse me, Miss Harden, I meant no offense. 
Is Harold about this morning ? ” 

“ Ho, Harold is not about, and if he was he would 
not be wanting to see the likes of you.” Hannery- 
beck’s anger was rising, and she had a temper when it 
was aroused. “ Harold’s seen enough of you and your 
gang of late. He’s not afraid of you, and you know 
it ; but I guess you’ll not see him for a spell. Do you 
want anything of me ? ” 

She still held in her hand the oven-peel, that great 
wooden shovel with its long handle and flat, broad palm. 
She brandished this as she spoke. 

“ Ho,” was Wherry’s reply, “ I don’t want anything 
in particular, either with you or your precious nephew, 
but I guess some other people do. Mebbe you didn’t 
know the soldiers are after him for some of his doings. 
Here’s one of them now.” And he indicated the guard, 
whom she had not noticed before. 

“ Well, Harold has not done anything for which he 
should be afraid to meet the soldiers, but you have, Jim 
Wherry, and you know it. You’ll be lucky if you keep 
out of their clutches. And now, get out of this ! ” 

Again Hannerybeck brandished the oven-peel and ad- 
vanced a step. 

“ Oh, I guess we’ll not be going so fast,” said Wherry, 
in his confidence and boastfulness allying himself with 
the government forces. u I reckon we’ll have to search 
your house before we go, and see if the brave young 


Sim Greene. 


293 


fellow that goes off in the night might ’ve returned to 
defend his old auntie.” 

The now enraged woman made a dash at him so sud- 
den that he had barely time to turn and run to keep 
from being struck down where he stood. She pursued 
him swiftly. So unexpected was the onslaught that he 
did not have time to notice what his course was until 
he found himself almost on the brink of the steep bluff 
overlooking the river. Involuntarily he paused, intend- 
ing to change his course, but this brought Hannerybeck 
within striking distance. Glancing over his shoulder, 
he saw the great paddle descending, and he bent forward 
that the blow might not fall on his head. It came, 
instead, with a resounding whack on his back, and 
knocked him on his hands and knees, bringing a yell of 
pain from Wherry. Before he could get away the peel 
was raised again, and this time, just as he was in the 
act of getting up, it came sweeping down and gave him 
a mighty smack which sent him headlong over the bank, 
and rolling to the river shore below. 

In the midst of the dialogue the Lieutenant and the 
other soldiers came up. Sim Greene was with them, 
and these and Sykes joined in a roar of laughter at the 
expense of Wherry, who was painfully gathering him- 
self up. The officer, after learning from Sykes that 
nothing had been seen of Harold, advanced and ad- 
dressed Hannerybeck, who was still glaring at her fallen 
foe. 

“ I beg your pardon, ma’am, but we have some busi- 
ness with Harold Harden, who, I am informed, has his 
home with you. Can you give me any information as 
to his present whereabouts ? ” 

“ I don’t know where he is now,” she answered. 


294 


Sim Greene, 


“ He is not at home, then ? ” 

“ Ho, sir ; he has gone away.” 

“ Will he be back soon ? ” 

“ He thought it likely he would he gone for a good 
spell.” 

“ Ho doubt, ma’am, you have been telling me the 
truth, but my instructions will make it necessary for me 
to look into your house. That will be one of the first 
things asked me when I make my report. I promise 
you nothing shall be disturbed.” 

“ Harold is not here and has done nothing that would 
make him afraid to meet you if you should find him. 
But, come along. I’ll show you all through the house to 
satisfy you. But that scallawag does not go in,” she 
said, again shaking her weapon towards Wherry, who 
had made his way up the bank some distance above. 
“ There’s more call for the soldiers to be after him than 
after my Harold, for he’s been in about all the deviltry 
that’s been going on for the last two or three years.” 

“ All right, ma’am, lead the way. Sykes, you will 
accompany me. The rest of you will remain here.” 

At Hannerybeck’s concluding words Wherry thought 
it best to put a greater distance between him and the 
soldiers, so he limped off. Hannerybeck now set the 
peel down beside the oven, took a peep in to see how 
her bread was coming on, and then led the way into the 
house. The officer was satisfied to make a perfunctory 
examination, but she led him to all parts of the house, 
told him to look under the beds and in the closets and 
everywhere else that might possibly conceal a man, but, 
of course, without any success in the search. 

By the time they came out quite a crowd had col- 
lected, attracted by the sight of the soldiers and the 


Sim Greene. 


295 


word, quickly passed, that these were after Harold 
Harden. This was being discussed in an excited way 
by the people, who did not know how to account for it, 
when Colonel Bayard came out of his house, near by, 
and drew nearer to learn the cause of the commotion. 
When told what it was he said nothing, but his face ex- 
pressed surprise. Then he asked the officer concerning 
the matter. 

“ I am not informed as to the details of the case, 
sir,” was the answer, “ but I understand the young man 
is wanted to answer a charge of participating in the 
burning of General Nevill’s house. I believe the spe- 
cific charges in the cases of all those against whom pro- 
ceedings have been instituted in that matter are riot 
and treason. My instructions are only to take him, if 
possible, and deliver him in camp. And,” raising his 
voice, “ I will take it as a favor to me and an evidence 
of good citizenship on the part of any who will aid in 
the apprehension of those who have lately been engaged 
in breaking and defying the laws in this section.” 

u I am quite ready, sir,” responded the Colonel, witK 
dignity, u to aid in upholding the laws. That has ever 
been my attitude. But I have no hesitancy in saying 
that I do not believe that young man had anything more 
to do with the burning of General Nevill’s house than 
you or I had.” 

“ That may be, sir ; but if apprehended he may have 
difficulty in establishing it. I have it on very good 
authority that it is General Nevill himself who makes 
this charge, and says positively that he saw this man 
among those who made the first attack on his house ; 
and that the officer who commanded the troops engaged 
in the defence of the house on the occasion of the 


396 


Sim Greene. 


second attack saw him among the rioters and spoke to 
him. I am not here to pronounce him guilty or inno- 
cent, but to get him, if possible. It occurs to me, how- 
ever, that if innocent it is rather remarkable that he 
gathered such personal effects as he could carry and 
took a hurried departure from his home in the darkness 
of last night.” 

Colonel Bayard made no reply to this. It was news 
to him and he did not know how to account for it. So, 
thanking the officer for his information, he turned and 
went thoughtfully back to the house. A number of 
other persons had heard the conversation, and these 
quickly spread the information. It occasioned aston- 
ishment everywhere, for nobody had ever thought of 
Harold as being active on that side, if in sympathy with 
it at all, and most persons who heard it still thought 
there must be some mistake about it. To some who 
notoriously had been engaged in the unlawful proceed- 
ings in resistance to the excise this movement of the 
soldiers brought great alarm, and there were some more 
hurried departures from the vicinity that day. 

It is a fact that on the approach and shortly after the 
arrival of the army more than one thousand men dis- 
appeared from the region in which the Insurrection had 
been particularly active. Some of these went into hid- 
ing but many left the region entirely. Some later came 
forth and surrendered themselves, others remained ab- 
sent for years and still others never came back. Among 
the absentees at this time were the Hollcrofts (father 
and son), Benjamin Parkinson, William Miller and 
many others who were active in the Insurrection, some 
of whom have been named in this narrative and many 
who have not. 


Sim Greene. 


297 


Colonel Bayard’s news made a sensation at the house 
when reported. He did this with some diplomacy and 
added his firm belief that the young man had nothing 
to do with the riot at Hevill’s, and that if he really had 
gone it was for some other reason. Mabel showed con- 
siderable agitation at the intelligence, and was at a 
loss to account for Harold’s absence and the circum- 
stances attending his going. It is true he had told her 
some things about the threats made against him and 
his aunt’s desire that he leave for a time, but he had 
treated the matter lightly, or affected to do so. The 
girl had intimated to him that perhaps his wisest course 
would be to follow his aunt’s advice and leave for a 
time, but had really been pleased with the spirit mani- 
fested when he refused to do so. How she did not know 
what to think. Had he suddenly decided that it would 
be best for him to go ? Or had something occurred 
which made it imperative that he should go ? What- 
ever were her thoughts further concerning the matter, 
she kept them to herself. 

Alice Sample, who also was at the Bayard home 
that morning, showed concern over the young man’s go- 
ing, and had more to say about it, which accorded with 
her different nature. She had arrived only the even- 
ing before, and had secretly hoped to see him during 
this brief visit, for she was much interested in the 
young man. Her brother had told her of seeing him at 
the Hevill place on the evening that the house was de- 
stroyed, and she now mentioned this. 

“ He was not there with any intention of engaging 
in the things done that day,” Mabel said, “ but went 
to try to learn something concerning his father, who 
was then missing.” 


298 


Sim Greene. 


The other girl expressed her pleasure at learning this, 
and thought that fact, if established, ought to enable 
him easily to clear himself of the charges brought 
against him. She did not know of the scene on the 
morning before the burning of the house, nor did Mabel 
or any of the others of these friends of his at that time. 

Hannerybeck was non-committal concerning her neph- 
ew. I questioned her, as did also Colonel Bayard, to 
try to learn something of the young man’s whereabouts. 
She said she did not know just where he was, but he 
had gone with her advice and full consent; he had not 
done anything in violation of law and was not fleeing 
from the soldiers ; he would be back after a time. That 
was all she could be induced to say. 

That evening at Clark’s Sim entertained the Colonel 
and others of us with an account of Jim Wherry’s hu- 
miliation at the hands of the irate Hannerybeck, which 
greatly amused him. 

“ When I got thar,” he said, “ she wuz lookin’ hot- 
ter’n her oven, an’ wuz a-shakin’ that conniplicon at 
the lummix, an’ ” 

“ Shaking what ? ” interrupted Colonel Bayard. 

“ That hootenanny that she shovels her bread with — • 
that long-handled ma jigger, you know.” 

“ Oh, the oven-peel ? ” asked the Colonel, as if a light 
had just dawned on him. 

“ Yes, I guess that’s what they call it. I’ve alius 
been ust to Hutch-oven bakin’, an’ don’t know much 
abaout these new-fangled kerdoodlements. Waal, as I 
wuz a-sayin’, Hannerybeck wuz lookin’ purty warm, 
an’ when that skeezicks got sassy an’ begun to talk abaout 
search in’ the haouse, she jest swooped daown on him. 
He run like he thought a streak uv greased lightnin’ 


Sim Greene. 299 

wuz after him, an’ purty soon I guess he thought it had 
struck ! ” 

Sim’s auditors were convulsed with laughter as he 
detailed the facts of the encounter, already narrated, 
and he chuckled long over his remembrance of it. 

“ Thar’s a wumman uv sperrit,” he commented in 
conclusion, and his words and tone bespoke real appre- 
ciation and admiration. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 

H AROLD knew the river well and in the bright 
moonlight he had no difficulty in holding his 
course and making good progress. The swift- 
ness of the current, owing to the high stage of the 
water, rendered little exertion necessary to keep the 
canoe going at a good rate. He reached the mouth of 
Turtle creek before midnight, and running his canoe 
a short distance up this he made a landing and lay 
down in his blanket to try to get some sleep. He felt 
assured that he had thrown his pursuers completely off 
the track, and had no further fears concerning them. 
But he found it impossible to sleep for a long time, so 
busy was his mind with the things of that night. 

The habit of his boyhood came strongly upon him, 
and he called up the vision of the mother his physical 
eyes had never consciously seen. Closing these eyes 
now, he could see her clearly as he had often imagined 
her before, and in her look there seemed to be a deep 
sympathy for her sorely distressed son. Like a tired 
child he seemed to lie in her arms and tell her his 
troubles, and a measure of relief came to him in doing 
so. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the calm 
stars shining above. He wondered if she was far be- 
yond them, or if in her real presence she might he near 
him at that hour. 

Once he almost made up his mind to turn back and 
300 


Sim Greene. 


301 


face the whole situation. But ridicule was unbearable 
torture to him, and he could not bring himself to go 
back to encounter all that he felt would be in the 
state of affairs at his home. 

He finally fell into a troubled sleep, and it was 
broad daylight when he awoke. He made breakfast on 
some of the things his aunt had tied up in a package 
for him, and then resumed his journey. By the middle 
of the forenoon he reached Pittsburgh, and made a 
stop there to lay in supplies he thought he would need. 
He did not meet anybody he knew, and was glad of it. 
Soon he was on his way down the Ohio, and he kept 
going all the remainder of that day, stopping for the 
night near the mouth of Beaver river. 

Thus he kept going, traveling by day and sleeping in 
his blanket in the woods at night. He found this no 
hardship, for frequently on their hunting expeditions 
he and Sim had slept out. It was a pleasant autumn, 
and had he not felt so depressed he would have enjoyed 
this trip, lonely though it was. He was used to that 
also, and had often spent days in the woods alone. He 
frequently tarried now and spent many hours in hunt- 
ing, thus giving variety to his fare and getting the en- 
joyment which a stroll in the woods always brought 
him. But there was ever the gnawing pain in his 
heart. 

Prom time to time he passed craft of different kinds 
on the river, sometimes a keel-boat making its toilsome 
way up the stream, but more frequently a flat-boat bound 
the s.ame way he was going, though of slower motion. 
On these occasions he was wary abouiE approaching very 
near to these craft, for he did not want to meet anybody 
he knew, for fear of embarrassing questions concerning 


303 


Sim Greene. 


his pilgrimage. Once his day’s travel extended into 
the night, and he passed close enough to a flat-boat to 
recognize in the bright light of their fire the faces of 
a number of men he knew and to hear their voices. It 
was, in fact, a party going from the Mingo and Peters 
creek region, to escape the consequences of their doings 
in the months past, in the accounting that would be 
called for on the arriv 1 of the army. They had made 
their start some days in advance of Harold. 

He made a stop at Marietta and paddled some dis- 
tance up the Muskingum, looking about and making 
some inquiries concerning boat building work, for that 
had already been started there. But the outlook did 
not seem favorable for him at the time, and after a 
brief stay there he pushed on. The second night after 
that he had an experience which had an important bear- 
ing on his future actions. 

He had landed for the night and drawn his canoe up 
among some willows which lined the shore. He was 
about to make a fire when he heard voices, and then 
paused to listen. He realized the necessity for caution 
in traversing the portion of the river he had reached, for 
the country was still harassed by savage Indians, es- 
pecially north of the Ohio, and returned boatmen fre- 
quently told of the equally savage actions of bands of 
white men who infested portions of the Ohio river and 
preyed upon such weak parties as they could find. 
Many luckless travelers were despoiled of their little 
all by these outlaws, and some had even lost their lives 
in defending their possessions. 

The voices were those of two men, and he could soon 
see them indistinctly in the dusk of the evening in a 
skiff which was slowly drifting down the river with 


Sim Greene. 


303 


the current, near the shore where he was concealed. He 
gathered from their conversation that they were 
patrolling the river, on the lookout for someone, and the 
next moment their conversation had vital Interest to 
him. This is what he heard : 

“ How’d the old man learn he was cornin’ ? ” 

“ I don’t know jist how he larnt. it, but somebody 
brung the word in that he was travelin’ in a canoe by 
hisself, an’ would likely pass down to-night. The cap’n 
seems awful anxious to take him, an’ has half a dozen 
of us out in skiffs a-lookin’ for him. He’ll har’ly git 
through ’thout somebody seein’ him, though the fust 
part of the night’s a-goin’ to be darker ’n a pocket, till 
the moon gits up. Powerful glad I run acrost you, 
Bill. It ’d be a lonesome night by myself. Hain’t got 
a little licker about you, hev you ? ” 

“ Nary a drap, pard, sorry to say. I could take 
about a mule’s earful myself.” 

“ That’s me. I’m so dry I kin har’ly speak the truth. 
Mebbe if we kin ketch that bird he’ll hev some of the 
good old Monongahely they make up in his kentry an’ 
which they hev been hevin’ such a rumpus about 
lately.” 

“ I hope so.” 

Then the skiff passed below so far that Harold could 
not catch any further words, though he still heard the 
murmur of the men’s voices and for a time could see 
them indistinctly in the gathering darkness. 

He was puzzled to account for this conversation. 
Parts of it seemed to refer to him, though he could not 
imagine why he should be wanted by anybody in that 
part of the country. But he was traveling by himself in 
a canoe, had come from the Monongahela country and 


304 


Sim Greene. 


had lately been among the scenes of the Insurrection, 
to which the men undoubtedly referred. In all these 
particulars the description fitted him. 

Then he thought of the pursuit of him the night he 
left home. Somehow, in association with that, came 
into his mind recollection of his encounter with General 
JSTevill the morning he had gone to search for his father, 
and from that time he could not get the two ideas sepa- 
rated in his mind. He knew that the army had come to 
the Forks region. What if it had not been Wherry and 
his gang after him, hut the soldiers on some charge in- 
spired by General Hevill, who doubtless had come with 
the army ? If so, and he really was wanted, his move- 
ments might have been traced. With his frequent stops 
for hunting and his stay at Marietta and vicinity, he 
had been more than a week on the way, while the jour- 
ney could he made in much shorter time. Word could 
easily have been sent down this far and have arrived 
ahead of him. 

With all these thoughts in his mind he resolved to 
push on, under cover of the night, and try to get past 
what seemed to be a danger point for him. He was not 
wholly convinced that he was the man wanted, but if 
that should prove true, and he he taken, it would mean 
he would he carried back to his home, and that, above 
all places, was where he did not want to go at that 
time. He was soon in his canoe again, and in the 
darkness which had settled down he paddled quietly 
out into the middle of the stream. 

He did not use the long paddle that night, but instead 
made use of two short spoon-like ones, whose usual office 
was to bail the canoe out when water got in it. Lying 
flat on his stomach he held one of these in each hand, 


Sim Greene. 


305 


and thus used one on each side. The heavily laden 
canoe floated low in the water and at a short distance 
could not be seen in the darkness. Even when seen, with 
its occupant thus, it looked more like a floating log 
than a craft, such as it was. Harold paddled quietly 
but steadily, and made good progress. A few times he 
heard low voices and the sound of oars, but in each case 
these were at some distance, and by changing his course 
and floating quietly he got by without detection. 

After midnight the moon rose, but the night was a 
cloudy one and for some time the river was covered with 
a thick gloom. As day was beginning to break he saw 
the houses of a settlement scattered along the river’s 
edge, on the right, some distance below. He thought, 
from some things he had heard, that this was likely 
Gallipolis, and his surmise was correct. Wishing to 
get past there before clear daylight should come he put 
forth increased effort and sent the canoe skimming 
along, keeping well towards the Virginia shore. 

He was just congratulating himself that he was going 
to get by without detection when he heard a commotion 
on shore. Looking that way he saw two men running 
towards the river, one of them pointing to him. Before 
they could get their skiff off and in shape for pursuit he 
was well past. He saw that further efforts at conceal- 
ment were useless and he jumped up, grasped the long 
paddle and with its sweeping strokes sent the canoe fair- 
ly leaping over the water. His pursuers shaped their 
course to try to intercept him obliquely, and they did 
desperate rowing to try to accomplish that, but Harold 
had a good start and their skiff was evidently a clumsy 
one. Seeing they could not catch up with him one of 
them jumped up, with a gun in his hands, and called to 
20 


306 


Sim Greene. 


him to stop or he would shoot. Harold quickly meas- 
ured the intervening distance with his eye, and kept on 
paddling. The man fired, but the ball fell short of its 
mark, as Harold felt confident it would, and he rapidly 
increased the distance between them. 

The pursuit was soon given up by the two men, but 
the young man hardly ceased his exertions that day, 
thinking it probable that further pursuit of him would 
be made. In this he was correct, though it came from 
a quarter he had not counted on. From Gallipolis the 
Ohio makes a long detour, first to the southwest and 
then to the northwest, so that to a point a few miles 
above the Scioto river is about forty miles across the 
country, while it is at least double that distance by way 
of the river. It was well that Harold exerted himself 
as he did that day. By night he was thoroughly tired 
out, but he decided not to make a landing. Instead, he 
lay down in the canoe and let it float in midstream 
while he rested. 

It was a long and dreary night for him, and his mind 
was filled with the bitter thoughts which now had free 
play, in his lack of occupation. The familiar night 
sounds on the water, which under other circumstances 
would have lulled him, now seemed to be mocking his 
misery. A slight breeze was stirring, and its mournful 
sighing among the trees seemed to accord with the mood 
of a great owl whose dismal hooting was long in his ears 
as he slowly floated by. A whippoorwill sang its plain- 
tive lay, and a belated frog bellowed an accompaniment 
in deep basso. When his course took him near a bar the 
lopping of the water on it was heard, and occasionally 
there was the splash of a leaping fish. Again to his 
mind came the vision of his mother, and when he lay 


Sim Greene. 


307 


with eyes closed he could see her with a distinctness 
which would have been startling had he not been famil- 
iar with the experience. In a measure it soothed and 
comforted him. 

Thus passed the night. He did not intend to sleep, 
but twice tired nature overcame his determination, and 
one of his periods of sleep, he knew from the position 
of the stars, must have been a full hour. That was 
somewhat risky, but fortunately no ill befell him. 

Early in the morning he passed a flat-boat, apparent- 
ly heavily laden, and proceeding down stream. All of 
its occupants seemed to be sleeping at the time except 
the man at the steering oar, who, dimly seen through 
the mist, waved a greeting to him, and he answered in 
like manner. Soon after this he passed the mouth of a 
river which entered the Ohio from the north. This, he 
surmised, was the Scioto. He paddled along leisurely 
for a few hours more, and then resolved to land and try 
to shoot something for fresh meat to vary his fare. 

He made a landing on the Ohio shore, running his 
canoe in alongside of a rock and under concealment of 
some bushes which hung down. He soon brought 
down a squirrel with his gun, which he cooked and ate 
with relish. Afterwards he shot some more, cleaned 
and salted them to take along, and then, being tired and 
sleepy, he resolved to have a nap before proceeding on 
his way. He lay down under some bushes, a short dis- 
tance back from the river, and was soon asleep. 

How long he slept he did not know, but he was sud- 
denly wakened by a noise, and springing up he saw 
what he soon recognized to be the same flat-boat he had 
passed that morning, just in the act of making a landing 
in front of where he was. It had been swung in 


308 


Sim Greene. 


towards shore, and a line, put out from the stern, was 
fastened to a tree. The unwieldy craft was now 
swinging in broadside to the shore. Ilarold thought of 
his canoe and sprang forward with a cry to the men on 
the boat. But as he did so the flat-boat came in against 
the rock, and he heard a crashing noise which he knew 
was made by the destruction of his canoe. 

He explained the situation to the men, and they 
found that the canoe was indeed ruined, but its contents 
were not seriously damaged, and these were soon 
rescued. The captain of the boat expressed regret at 
the accident and offered him passage with him as far as 
Fort Washington, the destination of the flat-boat, which 
Harold now saw was loaded with coal. The boat, had 
landed on the same mission which had brought Harold 
to shore — the hope of getting fresh meat, one of the 
men having seen a deer. The search for it was not suc- 
cessful, but some other game was secured and Harold 
contributed his squirrels to the general store, when 
preparations were made for resuming the journey. 
Harold was much vexed at the loss of his canoe, but it 
was so clearly an accident that he could not blame any- 
body for its destruction. He noticed another one much 
like it tied to the side of the flat-boat farthest from the 
shore. 

Just when the lines had been cast off and the boat was 
slowly swinging around four men came riding down the 
river shore at a rapid rate and hailed the party. Point- 
ing to the bow of the boat, where Harold was standing, 
one of the men. who seemed to be the leader, said : 

“We want that man.” 

At the same time he jumped from his horse and 
started up the plank which was just about to be drawn 


Sim Greene. 


309 


in by two men. Harold, who was standing close by, 
had his rifle in his hands, and with the thought of cap- 
tivity and being carried back home in his mind he in- 
voluntarily raised the piece and presented it to the man 
advancing up the plank, causing a precipitate retreat on 
his part. 

“ Why don’t you come and take him ? ” inquired the 
captain with a grin. And then he said to his men: 

“ Push her off.” 

This was done, leaving the four horsemen on the 
shore. The officer protested and said the boat people 
would hear from the authorities for that day’s work. 
But the captain did not seem to be much concerned 
about that, and gave directions for the further operation 
of the boat. It was now under way. Just then one of 
the men on shore said, in a voice distinctly audible to 
Harold : 

“ I know that young fellow, Sergeant. It’s young 
Harden of Elizabeth. I used to live near there.” 

“ That will be a good thing to remember,” rejoined 
the officer. “ He, too, will likely hear further con- 
cerning this.” 

Harold could not remember to have seen the man 
who first spoke, but evidently it was someone who knew 
him. He now turned around, still revolving this in his 
mind, but the next moment everything else in his 
thought gave way to the astonishment of finding him- 
self face to face with David Bradford ! 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


IN' A FALSE POSITION. 

H AROLD had frequently seen Bradford, though he 
had no personal acquaintance with him. The 
latter now advanced and extended his hand, 

saying: 

“ I thank you, young man, for your prompt and 
effective intervention in my behalf. To whom am I 
indebted for this service ? ” 

“ My name is Harden,” was the reply of the young 
man. He was taken aback by the sudden and unex- 
pected turn things had taken, and it was not yet all 
quite clear to him. 

“ And your home ? ” continued Bradford. 

“ It is, or has been until recently, in Pennsylvania,” 
was the answer. 

“ Ah, yes,” said Bradford with a pensive smile, 
“ you are like many others of us just now — have found 
it advantageous to seek a new home. But while this is 
so, it is highly gratifying to me to find my friends and 
followers loyal to me wherever I go. This is only an- 
other of the many evidences of it that have been shown 
me since I entered on this journey.” 

Harold was on the point of disclaiming any thought 
of performing a service for this man, whom he despised, 
but reflected that this might lead to awkward complica- 
tions for himself, so let it pass, and said nothing. Brad- 
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Sim Greene. 


311 


ford went on at some length, referring to the righteous- 
ness of the cause and his martyrdom for it. 

Harold soon learned that the men on the boat gener- 
ally were in sympathy with the cause of the Insurrec- 
tion, and a number of them were fugitives on account 
of their part in it. He was relieved to find that none 
of them came from his immediate section, and no one 
seemed to know him. The boat was bearing coal from 
Pittsburgh to Port Washington, or Cincinnati, as it 
came to be known soon after that. A number of the 
crew, who had left hurriedly on receipt of the news 
that the army was drawing near, were working their 
passage down the river on it. 

The young man now realized, and it was not a com- 
forting thought to him, that he had unwittingly put 
himself in a false position in resisting the approach of 
the men who had essayed to board the flat-boat. Their 
purpose, he was now convinced, was to arrest Bradford, 
and he would have escaped their notice had he not in- 
terfered. But what he had seen and heard in the few 
hours preceding had surely justified his belief that it 
was himself the men had sought. How he was known 
to them, and the consequences of his interference might 
be serious. It seemed that the fates were determined 
to make him a fugitive from justice, though he had de- 
clared, and would do so again if charged with it, that 
he had never intentionally broken the laws of his coun- 
try. He felt embittered when he thought of the in- 
justice of it all. 

The facts with regard to Bradford and the strange 
tangle of his affairs which had enmeshed Harold 
(though the latter did not get full information concern- 
ing these until long afterwards) the reader has a right 


313 


Sim Greene. 


to know now. After the Brownsville meeting, where 
Bradford was so rabid, he seemed to realize that his 
power was gone, and not much was seen and heard of 
him. He appeared at the second meeting at Parkin- 
son’s Ferry, but was one of the meekest of those in at- 
tendance. A little later he attended a meeting in his 
own town and with a great deal of flourish signed a 
paper, with a number of others, in which it was de- 
clared that no further opposition to the excise law or 
any officer appointed under it, should come from them. 
He also wrote a letter to the Governor of the state in 
which he claimed to have been “ greatly misrepresented 
concerning his actions and sentiments regarding the In- 
surrection; that he always disliked the excise law, but 
it was never in his mind to go farther than a negative 
opposition to it; that he disapproved in the strongest 
terms of what was done at the Hevill house, and had 
done as much as any other to effect a reconciliation and 
submission to the laws.” 

He seemed to realize, however, that all these things 
would not avail to save him, his treasonable acts and 
utterances having been so notorious, so, on the near 
approach of the army, he fled from his home in Wash- 
ington. He rode across the country to the Ohio river, 
where he had arranged to have a small Kentucky boat 
in waiting for him, but was closely pursued by a man 
who had a grudge against him, growing out of some pro- 
ceedings in court in which they were interested. This 
compelled him to abandon his horse and the provisions 
already made for his escape, and take a hurried passage 
in a canoe. 

Proceeding thus down the river, Captain D’Hebe- 
court, commandant of the militia at Gallipolis, got 


Sim Greene. 


313 


word of his coming and resolved, if possible, to capture 
him. It was Bradford the men in the skiffs were look- 
ing for, instead of Harold, but Bradford had slipped 
past the night before, when his coming was not ex- 
pected. Later he had recognized acquaintances on the 
flat-boat and had thrown himself on their mercy. Thus 
it was he was on that craft when Harold took passage 
on it. He was in hiding much of the time, especially 
when the boat was at the shore. He had just come 
from such concealment when the boat was being loosed 
and the men rode up and demanded his surrender. 

When Harold got away from the men in the skiff op- 
posite Gallipolis they went to shore and reported to 
Captain D’Hebecourt. Hone doubted that the fugitive 
was Bradford, and the commandant determined still to 
capture him, if possible. So he equipped a party of 
four, a sergeant who knew Bradford by sight being one 
of them and having command, and started them across 
the country in the hope of intercepting him. They 
came out on the river before nightfall and kept a close 
watch as long as they could see, feeling confident that 
the man had not been able to reach there by the long 
and circuitous course of the river. It will be remem- 
bered that Harold floated by there that night, lying in 
the bottom of his canoe. Perhaps he passed the party 
while he was sleeping. 

The watchers failed to see the canoe in the night, 
and in the morning concluded to proceed down the river. 
It was thus they came up with the flat-boat just as it 
was being loosed from its mooring, and the movement 
of the sergeant for the capture of Bradford was thwarted 
by Harold, who thought they were after him. 

In due time the flat-boat reached Fort Washington, 


314 


Sim Greene. 


but during the preceding night Bradford and a number 
of his friends disappeared from it. He succeeded in 
escaping safely down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers 
and reached Louisiana, then under Spanish rule. He 
located at Bayou Sara, became a planter, acquired 
wealth and there spent the remainder of his days. 

Here we shall take final leave of this man who un- 
doubtedly had some talent, who could plan great things 
and could inspire his fellows with enthusiasm to en- 
gage heartily in the effort to carry them out, but whose 
weakness it was not to rise to the occasion when the 
crisis came. A number of times and notably at Brad- 
dock’s Field, when nearly the whole country was fawn- 
ing at his feet, he had it in his power, by a bold stroke, 
to have precipitated an armed resistance to the execution 
of the law to which he and they were opposed, which 
would have taxed to the utmost the strength and re- 
sources of the young republic. Indeed there is good 
reason to believe that the results of the Whisky Insur- 
rection might have been disastrous to the union of 
states, and thus to the world-wide cause of human 
liberty and self government, had David Bradford been 
as courageous and bold in execution as he was audacious 
in planning. 

Arrived at the destination of the boat Captain Dun- 
can, its commander, told Harold that Bradford had 
instructed him to turn over the canoe in which he came 
down the river to the young man w 7 ho had prevented 
his capture. But Harold resolutely refused to accept 
it. He soon provided himself with another one, and 
thus equipped, he proceeded on his journey down the 
river. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


duty’s call. 

T HE coming of the army had a wonderful effect in 
bringing peace and quiet where for more than 
three years great turbulence had prevailed. 
Hot a hand was lifted against the soldiers and the 
authority represented by them, and not an armed foe 
of the country or its laws could be found in the whole 
region. Many liberty poles were hastily chopped down 
and despoiled of their devices, and men who had been 
loud in their huzzas for the sentiments these had pro- 
claimed were now busy in explaining that they did so 
under pressure and against their real belief. Ho doubt 
many of them were sincere in these statements. Men 
who had failed thus far to sign the submission now 
flocked in and besought the privilege of doing so. There 
was well nigh another reign of terror, but now it was a 
terror of the penalties of the broken law. 

The soldiers on their part did much grumbling be- 
cause there was nothing for them to do to distinguish 
themselves. They had come, filled with resentment 
against the insurgents, whose doings, bad enough as 
they were, had been greatly magnified in the reports 
which had gone over the mountains. They had experi- 
enced real hardship on the way, for while among the 
mountains the weather had been constantly wet and 
cold. They expected a short but bloody war, and now 
to find a country in which absolute peace prevailed and 

315 


316 


Sim Greene. 


no one to lift a hand against them was a most unex- 
pected condition, and one which filled them with dis- 
gust. Some of them had done great boasting before 
starting of what they would do to the bloody insurgents, 
and a spirit of turbulence was manifested on the way to 
restrain which required the strictest discipline on the 
part of the officers. It is a fact that before crossing 
the mountains the soldiers had killed two men, and in 
each case under circumstances wholly unjustifiable. 
Strict orders were necessary to hold them within bounds, 
but so great was their resentment against the people of 
the region, who, they now said, had needlessly brought 
them on this hard expedition, that these orders were not 
sufficient in every case to prevent outrage and imposi- 
tion. And, as is so frequently the case under such cir- 
cumstances, these burdens often fell on inoffensive per- 
sons. The farmers of the vicinity of the army’s en- 
campment, in particular, suffered from marauding, all 
the inhabitants in the country being classed as insur- 
gents by the soldiers, and therefore their legitimate 
prey. 

As has been said, nearly all of those who had been 
prominent in the Insurrection had either fled the region 
on the approach of the army or were in hiding. Bands 
of soldiers scoured the country and brought in such of 
the offenders as they could find, or those suspected of 
having had any active participation. Many of these 
were examined by the improvised court at a farm-house 
in the Forks, adjacent to the main camp of the army. 
The greater part were allowed to go after it was shown 
that they had not been chief offenders, but some were 
held, to be tried by th. established tribunals of jus- 
tice. Secretary Hamilton took an active part in these 


Sim Greene. 


317 


proceedings. It was well known, however, that the men 
most wanted were not being brought in. 

The night of November thirteenth was fixed as the 
time for a general gathering in of the men against whom 
there was information indicating culpability. The 
raids were planned with secrecy by the military authori- 
ties so that these movements should be simultaneous all 
over the district affected. It was hoped, by making 
the movement a surprise that some of the men who were 
thought to be in hiding during the daytime might be 
found in their homes in the night. The order was suc- 
cessfully carried out as planned, and many men were 
taken captives. 

For the most part this was done in an orderly and 
humane way, any tendency to harshness by the soldiers 
being restrained by their officers. But this was not the 
case in the region about Mingo and Peters creeks, which 
was justly regarded as the hotbed of the Insurrection. 
The contingent selected for service in that region was 
taken from the New Jersey troops, who were still hot 
with indignation against the insurgents because these 
had ridiculed them as a “ watermelon army fit only to 
make war on crabs and oysters ! ” Some of the most 
active spirits of the Insurrection had come from this 
region. Here also was the home of the reputed author 
of the “ Tom the Tinker ” proclamations. It was now 
their opportunity for revenge, and they proceeded tq 
exact it in full measure. 

Unfortunately, instead of being under restraining 
authority that night, the commanding officer seemed to 
be actuated by a desire to excel all others in the indig- 
nities heaped upon people against whom they con- 
ceived themsely t e§ to have license to proceed. The re- 


318 


Sim Greene. 


suit was one of the few things which disgrace the 
otherwise proud record of American soldiery. Men 
were torn from their homes and terrified families by 
cursing demons who would not allow them adequately 
to clothe themselves for protection against the cold; 
were marched on a run at bayonets’ point for miles; 
were confined, while tied back to hack, in a cold and 
damp cellar for hours, without food or drink, and then 
driven, with less humanity than would have been be- 
stowed on cattle, on another long march before being 
delivered up. Very few of these were found to he prin- 
cipals in the excesses of the previous months, and nearly 
all of them were set free after a few days’ detention. 

Colonel Bayard, who strongly condemned these do- 
ings, yet found in the circumstances that which he 
quoted to prove some of his theories. “ As the Insur- 
rection flourished most in the region whence went forth 
the butchers of the Moravian Indians,” said he, “ so 
now, in the next generation, their children have been 
chief among those in defiance of law and authority, 
thus showing the natural workings of the law of hered- 
ity.” To the Colonel this was a plain case of the sins 
of the parents being visited upon the children. 

Elizabeth being the only town in the vicinity, the offi- 
cers frequently resorted there, and the place saw much 
of social life during the stay of the army. For a time 
General Lee had his headquarters right in the village 
and while there he issued, by authority of President 
Washington, his proclamation of amnesty. This 
granted a full and free pardon to all those who had 
been “ directly or indirectly engaged in the wicked and 
pnhappy tumults and disturbances lately existing in 
these counties,” excepting three classes which were 


Sim Greene. 


319 


specified. These were: First, persons then actually 
in custody or held by recognizance to appear and an- 
swer charges duly lodged against them; Secondly, all 
persons avoiding fair trial by abandonment of their 
homes ; Thirdly, “ persons the atrocity of whose con- 
duct renders it proper to mark them by name.” 

Those in the third class nearly all fell within the 
second also, since but few of them were to be found. 
Thirty-three names were in this list. Among them were 
Benjamin Parkinson, John and Kichard Hollcroft, 
David Bradford, William Miller, Edward Cook, Wil- 
liam Hanna and others, including Harold Harden, 
whose names have figured in the foregoing pages. Of 
these that I have named Colonel Cook alone promptly 
surrendered himself and gave bail for his appearance. 
The others were all missing. 

Of those who had been captured or had surrendered 
themselves above a score were held for trial and were 
marched, under an armed escort, to Philadelphia. They 
were confined for some months, but on being brought to 
trial only two were convicted. One of these was en- 
gaged in the mail robbery and the other in the burning 
of one of the collectors’ houses. They were sentenced 
to be hanged, but subsequently were pardoned by the 
President. All of the others were finally released. But 
few of them really had taken a prominent part, and it 
was well nigh impossible to get criminating testimony 
against any accused person. 

The main body of the army started on its march 
back over the mountains, there to be disbanded, late 
in November, after having been in the western country 
less than a month. But a force of twenty-five hundred 
men, enlisted specially for the occasion, remained dur- 


320 


Sim Greene, 


ing the winter under command of General Morgan. 
This force included many of those who had come as 
soldiers with the main army, but a goodly number of 
inhabitants of the western country also enlisted, some 
of whom had been active insurgents a few weeks be- 
fore. This force had its main cantonment on the Mo- 
nongahela, a mile above Elizabeth, on the opposite side 
of the river, huts being built for the soldiers and the 
old Virginia court house affording quarters for the 
commander and his principal officers.* 

Soon after the arrival of the army the offices for the 
collection of the revenue were reopened, and at once 
were busy in receiving this and recording the entry of 
stills. In some cases it became necessary to seize stills 
which were not entered, and the Inspector soon had 
quite a collection of this kind of property in his posr 
session. Illicit distilling was carried on in some very 
retired localities, and the revenue officers, supported 
by the soldiers, destroyed a number of these establish- 
ments. Some exciting episodes in connection with 
these seizures might be described, but they must be 
passed over in this history. 

One curious condition was fcrought about by the ef- 
forts put forth by the government to quell the dis- 
turbance. Its cost in money was nearly one million 
dollars — a much larger sum in those days than it is 
in ours, taking into account the selling prices of com- 
modities. A large part of this sum was distributed 
in the western country, and as a result more money was 
in circulation there than ever before. Times were 

* A grim memorial of this occupation exists to-day in a num- 
ber of mounds in the old burial ground there. Smallpox broke 
out among the men during the winter and a number of them died. 


Sim Greene. 


321 


greatly improved and people found it easier to meet 
the conditions imposed by the excise, then much modi- 
fied. This helped greatly in reconciling the people to 
the conditions enforced upon them. By the following 
spring the soldiers were all withdrawn from the region, 
the excise law then being quite as well observed there as 
in other parts of the country. 

It was just at this time that circumstances so shaped 
themselves that a change came into my life. Word 
came to me that my father was rapidly declining in 
health, and my presence was imperatively needed at 
home. It was with great reluctance that I realized 
I must respond to this call of duty — not reluctance to 
do all I could for the parents whose care of me could 
never be fully repaid; but I had come to love the 
western country, and felt that it must be my home of 
the future. This call, however, was not to be shirked 
or response to it delayed, so I began at once to make my 
preparations for the journey to the old home by the 
Delaware. 

Before going I went for a short visit to the Collings. 
My greeting by the girls was most cordial and kindly. 
I found some changes in both of them. Mary, always 
serious, now had something added to that, which it 
would be hard to make clear by attempted description. 
It was apparent, yet elusive; a look in the glorious 
brown eyes at times when she was quiet and thoughtful, 
yet seeming to retreat at the first consciousness of its 
detection — the shadow of a sweet pensiveness, hang- 
ing about her, yet not rendering her morose or unsocia- 
ble. To me it gave her an added charm, and my heart 
went out to her as never before. I was still very much 
in love with Mary Colling, but I felt it would not be 
21 


323 


Sim Greene. 


proper to make suck a declaration now. Aside from 
wkat I have tried to describe Mary was ker old self — 
kindly, cordial and frank. 

Tke change was more marked in Mabel. Nothing 
could wholly change her jolly nature, but I found that 
now she had times of quiet thoughtfulness wholly un- 
wonted in the Mabel I had known in the past. And 
then I fancied at times that her jollity was somewhat 
forced and unnatural. I thought I could guess the 
reason for this. I did not know the exact status of the 
case between Harold and her, but had long felt that she 
had more than a passing interest in him. I did not 
then know of the circumstances impelling him to take 
his sudden departure, and had felt, ever since his going, 
that I, who was more nearly his confidant than any 
other, had not been treated with proper consideration 
on that occasion. When his name came up in conver- 
sation with the girls later I must have intimated some- 
thing of the sort, but Mabel at once came to his defense. 
She said he undoubtedly had his own good reasons for 
his course in the matter, which in due time would be- 
come plain. 

This puzzled me more than ever. I had never 
thought that fear of the insurgents had driven him 
away, but had connected this imperious little beauty 
with the matter in some way; but whether he had 
avowed his love and been refused or had gone as the 
result of a lovers’ quarrel I had been unable to decide. 
Now it began to look as if she might also be in the 
dark as to the cause of his going. But she would not 
hear of anything to his discredit, and from this I argued 
that she loved him. 

The necessities of the case made my visit all too short, 


Sim Greene. 


323 


and the time speedily came when I must say farewell, 
for how long a time no man knew. When I first told 
Mary of the fact that I must go I thought a shadow 
flitted for a moment across her face, and the thought 
gladdened me. A moment later she said of course it 
was my duty to go with all dispatch, and such a duty 
should always be a pleasure. 

When the time came for goodbye I wanted to ask if 
there might be correspondence between us, but hesitated 
to do so, from a feeling that it might he indelicate 
under the circumstances. But she swept all the diffi- 
culty aside by saying : 

“ Of course you will write us sometimes, David, to 
let us know how you get along and how it goes with 
your parents. We shall he glad to hear.” 

Mabel seconded this, and I gave the promise with 
alacrity. Then we parted, hut the gentle pressure of 
Mary’s little warm hand, as it rested a moment in mine, 
brought a thrill which I can feel yet, after all these 
years. 


CHAPTEE XXXVII. 


SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. 

I T was more than four years before I saw the Mo- 
nongahela again. On reaching Philadelphia I 
found my father indeed in feeble health, and my 
mother far from well. Their greeting was most tender 
and affectionate, and it was good to see them again, 
after seven years of separation. The increasing weight 
of years had impressed its marks on them, and I felt, 
as I looked upon their dear old faces, that the time of 
their sojourn here could not he much longer. 

Colonel Bayard had kindly given me letters to some 
of his old business associates in the city, and I soon 
found employment that was congenial and at the same 
time gave me bookkeeping which I could do partly at 
home. Thus the time did not drag, and it was a peace- 
ful and happy little reunited family circle that awaited 
the changes which all felt must soon come. Often my 
thoughts went hack to the western country with a long- 
ing to be there. I was faithful in fulfilling my prom- 
ise to write, and am inclined to think now that I wrote 
sometimes when there was really little to be said. 

Mary’s letters did not always keep pace with mine 
in point of number, but they were always interesting to 
me — deeply so. She told me all the things about the 
people and the neighborhood that she thought would 
have interest for me, and thus I was able to keep pretty 
well posted about the doings there during my absence. 
324 


Sim Greene. 


325 


She wrote among her earlier letters that she had tried 
to impress on Mabel the fact that it was her duty to 
do part of the writing, but that young person thought 
otherwise, so Mary had to be the so^ correspondent. I 
was well pleased with this arrangement, though I 'al- 
ways did like the child, as I could not help but regard 
her yet. 

One thing she seldom referred to, unless I asked, and 
that was with regard to Harold. She wrote, in answer 
to my queries, that he had not thought it worth while, 
apparently, to communicate with any of his friends, 
therefore she had no means of acquiring information 
concerning him. I gathered from this that, however 
her sister might think, or affect to think, that his course 
would be vindicated in the end, he was not blameless 
in the eyes of Mary. 

My father continued with us until the winter fol- 
lowing my arrival at home, and then a cold, contracted 
in a sudden change of weather, carried him off in a 
few days. I was now more necessary to mother than 
ever. Once, in one of my times of longing for the 
loved scenes beyond the mountains, (it was just after 
receiving one of Mary’s letters) I found myself won- 
dering if we two could not make the journey and have 
our little home there for the future. But the thought 
was almost as quickly dismissed. My mother could not 
stand the hard trip overland, and she was frequently 
expressing the thought that soon her form would be 
lying by the side of the loved one so recently gone. It 
was her great desire that her body should rest beside 
his. She was spared to me three years after father’s 
death, and what I was able to be to her in those last 
years has ever been a comfort to me. 


326 


Sim Greene. 


When she was gone property affairs had to he settled 
up. These were not extensive, the little home being 
about all that my father left. But it had to be sold, 
and this took time. I had been able to meet the ex- 
penses of maintaining the home from my earnings, and 
the settlement of the estate left me with nearly all the 
proceeds of its sale in my pocket. While far from 
wealthy I was now in a position to justify marriage. 
All financial obstacles to that happy consummation be- 
ing removed the only question was, could I yet win my 
heart’s desire ? I was resolved to try. It was just at 
this time that a letter came from Mary telling me of 
her father’s sudden death. Then I resolved to hurry 
the preparations for my journey. 

It was autumn of the year 1799 when I crossed the 
mountains again, on my way to the West. Nature’s 
aspect was much the same that it had been on the oc- 
casion of my first journey over the road, and the suc- 
cessive scenes of each day’s travel recalled nearly every 
occurrence and episode of that truly joyous experience. 
How vivid were the recollections of the killing of the 
catamount, the forest fire, the night at Bonnet’s, Sim’s 
stories and songs and the delightful conversations with 
Mary. I stood again one afternoon on the very spot 
where she and I had fint looked on the country west 
of the mountains, and I recalled her words as she spoke 
of the uncertainties of the future in the life in the new 
country. Prophetic they now seemed to me to have 
been. The shadows had indeed fallen over all of us, 
but was there not brightness beyond, just as there was 
where the sun was blazing down beyond the expanse of 
country now under the shadow of a cloud ? Dear girl ! 
I know now that I loved you even from that time, eleven 


Sim Greene., 


327 


years ago, when you spoke those words. God give me 
the high privilege of bringing something of sunshine yet 
into your life ! 

I found a good deal of change in the western country, 
brought about during the four years of my absence. 
The era of prosperity which set in just after the sup- 
pression of the Insurrection still continued. The little 
town on the Monongahela was having a rapid and sub- 
stantial growth, and others were growing up around it. 
At Simerall’s ferry, on the Youghiogheny, the army had 
marched over Isaac Robb’s farm and thrown down his 
fences. He refused to put them up again, but sold the 
farm off in town lots, and hence Robbstown, now West 
Newton. Joseph Parkinson likewise had laid out a 
town at his ferry on the Monongahela, and now it bears 
the name of the river. 

The region was completely pacified, and the Insur- 
rection was rapidly becoming but a memory. Many 
of those who had disappeared on the coming of the 
army had come back, one by one, and now only a few 
of those who were specially proscribed were yet among 
the missing. The spirit manifested by the government 
did not exhibit a desire to follow and punish any of 
these, but there was sufficient satisfaction seemingly in 
the knowledge that no further trouble was to he feared 
from them. Further proclamations of amnesty were 
issued, extending to all but a few of those classed as 
chief offenders, and even special pardons were granted 
to a number of these, on representations by their friends 
that they were repentant and willing to give loyal sup- 
port to the government. 

Almost the first person I saw on my return was Han- 
nerybeck. She seemed glad to see me. In response to 


328 


Sim Greene, 


my inquiries slie said that Harold had never come hack. 
She admitted that she had heard from him more than 
once, but could not or would not give any information 
of his whereabouts. She seemed averse to discussing 
the matter, and what little information I got from her 
was by questions. Finally she burst out passionately, 
saying : 

“ They’ll tell you all kinds of things about my Har- 
old, but they’re not true. He’s a good boy, and 
wouldn’t do the things they say about him. And some 
day they’ll find it out, too ! ” 

I thought at the time she meant his alleged part with 
the insurgents at ISTevill’s, and assured her that I did not 
believe those things of him. But I soon found that 
other and more serious charges were now in circulation 
concerning the young man. For some time stories had 
been coming from down the Ohio river of a band of des- 
peradoes operating there, and preying particularly on 
emigrant parties and others traversing the lower part of 
the stream. The frequent plundering of such parties, 
charged to the account of this band, made it a terror. 
The leader was a young man of fine appearance, and he 
was popularly reported to exercise a wonderful influence 
and command over the wild fellows composing the band. 
All efforts to capture him or any of his men, or to dis- 
cover their hidden lair, had been in vain, though a 
number of such efforts had been made by the exas- 
perated people of the region. The outrages still con- 
tinued. 

And now came the astonishing part of the story to 
me. It was asserted that the leader was none other 
than my old pupil and friend, Harold Harden. At 
first only vague rumors to this effect had been heard, 


Sim Greene. 


329 


but later apparent confirmation was furnished in the 
stories brought back by boatmen who had been on craft 
which had suffered at the hands of this robber gang. A 
number of these declared they had plainly seen the 
leader, and that it was indeed Harold. The testimony 
in all these cases, however, was that no violence had 
been done anybody, except that they had been robbed 
while covered with guns. 

The evidence seemed to he overwhelming, hut I could 
not bring myself to believe this of the boy I had known 
so well. He was always secretive, hut I had attributed 
it to his backwardness. It seemed to me wholly im- 
possible that he could be a criminal. True, there was 
the strange fact of his going away as he did, which had 
never been clear to me, and the further fact of his con- 
tinued absence and silence, though this might he ac- 
counted for by the government proscription on him. I 
spoke to Colonel Bayard about tfie matter, and found 
him in the same state of mind as myself. He said : 

u I do not know what to think about that case. Some- 
how I cannot believe that hoy a criminal. If it he 
true that he is, I never before was so deceived in any 
person, and I have always thought I could read char- 
acter tolerably well. Then there is the mystery of his 
going away as he did. Whatever may he the fact, there 
is no denying that this report is now very generally 
believed here.” 

Soon after my arrival I made it convenient to go 
to Mingo to see the Collings. I found the girls 
shrouded in the sorrow of their recent bereavement, but 
cordially glad to see me. With hearts tendered by our 
sad experiences we exchanged condolences. Then there 
was much to talk of concerning the happenings since we 


330 


Sim Greene. 


had last been together. I hardly knew how to intro- 
duce the subject of Harold, and neither of them did so 
in the first interview, but later, when Mary and I were 
alone together, that topic was discussed. She exhibited 
some indignation against the absentee, but said Mabel 
would not talk of the matter at all now. What she be- 
lieved concerning him was locked up in her own breast, 
but no word of resentment for him was ever heard from 
her. 

But the strain was evidently telling on the girl. She 
had become pale, thin and nervous, and at times ex- 
hibited as near an approach to irritability as one of her 
disposition could. Her sister thought she sometimes 
assumed a light-heartedness that she did not feel. By 
tacit agreement the subject of Harold was and for some 
time had been a tabooed one with them. 

And Mary — to me she was more beautiful than ever 
before, her form rounded with the lines of mature 
womanhood and her serene face, always alight with the 
glow of noble thought, but now also stamped with that 
refinement of character coming from sorrow met and 
patiently borne. I had not meant to tell her what was 
in my heart at this first meeting, but now could not help 
it, and the whole story poured from my lips. I told 
her how I had loved her since soon after we had first 
met, and of the circumstances which had kept me from 
an avowal of my passion, and even led to a concealment 
of any evidences of it for a time. But now my cir- 
cumstances were different, and I could offer her my 
wealth of love, my name and the home I hoped to make. 
Would she make me the happiest of men by accepting 
them ? 

In that hour I entered into the fullness of the joy of 


Sim Greene. 


331 


living, for the dear one placed her hands in mine, and 
with her beautiful eyes, moist with unshed tears, look- 
ing into mine, said : 

“ Yes, David, I love you dearly, and have long loved 
you.” 

What we talked of in the hour that followed was of 
most interest to us alone, and has no proper place in 
this chronicle. But one matter which she brought up 
later may interest the reader. It was concerning Major 
McFarlane. She told me frankly that they had been 
engaged to marry. She had been impressed by the 
noble traits of character which undoubtedly were his, 
and in most things found him a congenial companion. 
He had been kind to her in lavishing gifts and atten- 
tions on her, and her father, who was a close friend of 
the Major, had openly and warmly approved of his suit. 
She had thought she loved him truly and could be happy 
as his wife, but this belief began to be clouded by some 
doubt 

The first occasion of this was when her eyes were 
opened to the state of my feeling at the time she made 
that visit to the Bayards’ and I insisted on accompany- 
ing her home. She had always thought of me as a 
very good friend only, but now was distressed to find a 
perplexity in her mind to read aright just what was in 
her heart. Was the feeling she then discovered there 
one of pity for me in what she saw, or was it a stronger 
feeling than that? Mary Colling was honest to the 
heart’s core, and would do the right at whatever cost, 
though her tender heart shrank from giving pain to any 
creature. She desired to sit down quietly by herself and 
think it all o~t before taking any action. That was 
why she first expressed her desire to go home alone that 


332 


Sim Greene. 


day. With a woman’s intuition she read my determina- 
tion to avow my love for her, and. set her woman’s wit 
against me to frustrate that plan, with what success the 
reader has seen. 

Major McFarlane exhibited violent jealousy as they 
rode to her home that day, and with quiet dignity she de- 
fended herself, until soon he was convinced and begged 
her pardon for having doubted her constancy. That he 
loved her devotedly there could be no doubt, but he had 
all the love of one’s own way which most men acquire 
when they have lived single until in the forties, and all 
of a Scotchman’s proverbial tenacity of purpose when 
he set himself to having his own way. Mary’s was not 
a combative disposition, but she knew that without mu- 
tual forbearance there could not be true happiness in 
the married state. When they had slight differences 
over a few things, in which she tried to he fair and yield 
as far as she could without surrendering principle, with 
no corresponding concession on his part, she realized 
that it would be jeopardizing the happiness of both of 
them to marry. 

The crisis came when the expedition was made up 
for the attack on ISTevill’s house. She felt that she 
could not give countenance to any such proceeding, and 
said this so pointedly and emphatically that he took 
offense. She told him then, kindly but firmly, that she 
was convinced it would he folly for them to be mar- 
ried, and asked to he released from their engagement. 
He went from her in anger, declaring that a man must 
he the judge of his own conduct, and his judgment 
was he should go with the expedition to Nevill’s. She 
never saw him again. 

Poor girl! It is no wonder she was prostrated by 


Sim Greene. 


333 


the news of his tragic death, with all the circumstances 
attending it and the conflicting emotions swaying her 
at the time. But in the midst of it all one fact be- 
came clear to her, and that was the intensity of her 
affection for me. She then realized that this was the 
first time she had truly loved. She met with a num- 
ber of interruptions in telling this last, but there was 
neither bird nor squirrel present to report the occasion 
thereof, and I will never tell ! 

I then told her of what Major McEarlane had said 
in his dying moments, for I never had a doubt but that 
it was Mary of whom he spoke when he said, “ She was 
right.” And I honored her for the tears she now shed 
in his memory. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP. 

M ARY consented to an early marriage, and only 
a few weeks after my coming back the banns 
were published on three successive Sabbaths 
in both the Mingo meeting-house, where her member- 
ship was, and at Round Hill, where I belonged, that 
being the custom of the time. Did I say that my good 
old pastor, the Reverend James Finley, was called to 
his reward the year after the suppression of the In- 
surrection ? Dr. Ralston, of Mingo, said the words 
which gave me for wife one of the sweetest and best 
women that ever trod this planet, and we at once went 
to the little home I had caused to be prepared. Mabel 
came to be one of the family, for such was the arrange- 
ment agreed on. Some tears were shed by the two 
when the time came finally for them to leave their home 
of years, embowered amid vines of their planting, and 
the grave of their father on the hillside near by. 

The new home on the Monongahela was a happy one 
to the two of us who were at its head, and we tried to, 
make it so for the sister, but there were evidences of 
the shadow under which she was living. She kept up 
a brave front, but was not the Mabel of former years. 
She was not fond of company and gayety, nor did her 
laugh have the hearty ring of the old days. Often her 
sister found that her pillow had been wet with her 
tears in the night. 


334 


Sim Greene. 


335 


Some things concerning her Mary now told me. 
After Harold’s leaving she had persisted in plunging 
into the rural gayeties more than ever before. She was 
a proud young miss, and did not want anybody to think 
she felt any sense of loss, for of course there was much 
talk of Harold’s sudden going, and the names of these 
two were coupled much in what was said. Then, too, 
not a great while after that, young Sample had secured 
a furlough, and most of it was spent in her company. 
His devotion seemingly was not discouraged by the 
girl, and for a time they were together almost con- 
stantly. Who can read the heart of woman ? Was it 
a case of mutual affection, or did she grasp this op- 
portunity of showing that she was not bowed down with 
grief for the absent one ? Mabel was not cruel, but — 
she was a woman. Just what passed between them then 
she would not tell, but suddenly an end came of it, and 
the little soldier withdrew disconsolately from the field, 
while the girl seemed filled with contrition. Either his 
wound was not as deep as he thought, or he also could 
show the world that he did not care, for in less than a 
year he had wooed and won another beauty. 

Soon after my return from Philadelphia I was in- 
stalled by Colonel Bayard in the responsible position 
of looking after his large and varied interests. In- 
creasing years and the results of an active life, which 
included the exposure and hardships of the Revolution- 
ary campaigns, had begun to hear heavily upon him, and 
he was wise enough to shift a part of the burden to 
younger and stronger shoulders. I found his interests 
to be much more extensive than I had known of before, 
in property and business connections in Pittsburgh and 


336 


Sim Greene. 


elsewhere, besides the boat-building industry at home, 
which was growing rapidly. 

In the following spring a most ambitious project in 
this line took form at the village, it being nothing less 
than the building of a ship, its lading with some of the 
products of the country and voyaging down the Mo- 
nongahela, Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and thence, if 
found desirable, by the sea to such port as should pro- 
vide a good market for the vessel and its cargo. It 
was a bold undertaking, that of these people of an 
obscure inland village, and its success marked the be- 
ginning of an important era in the carrying trade on 
western waters. A few years after that time ships 
were sailing from ports on the Ohio and its tributaries 
to various ports in Europe, but this seems to have been 
the beginning of that movement, and the vessel thus 
begun to have been the first ship built in America, west 
of the Alleghany mountains. 

A company was organized, composed of some of the 
chief men of the village and farmers of the vicinity. 
Colonel Bayard had a prominent part in it, and John 
Walker, who then lived in the village and kept the 
hotel and ferry, was also actively identified with it. 
The vessel was to be a schooner and her model was 
drafted by our old friend, John Scott, who was made 
foreman in the work. I am glad thus to be able to 
preserve in history the names of these men who played 
leading parts in this important pioneer enterprise. 
From its beginning it enlisted much interest, and the 
ship, as it grew, became the wonder of its time in that 
region. 

The keel was laid in the early part of the year 1800, 
and then slowly grew up the structure of the vessel. 


Sim Greene. 


337 


It is a most interesting sight to watch such a vessel grow 
into being. First is laid the row of blocks, substantially 
bedded, straight in course and evenly aligned, for the 
support of the keel. Then that spinal column of the 
vessel to be is laid down, of the solidest oak to he found 
in the forest, its parts accurately scarfed and securely 
pinned together. Into this, to follow the figure further, 
the ribs of oak are articulated, curving upward at their 
extremities and making the structure at this- stage look 
indeed like the skeleton of some gigantic creature, once 
imbued with life. Then follow the various parts and 
processes, until finally it stands, a finished hull, perched 
like a great bird upon the shore, ready to take its first 
flight. 

In this case the progress of building was slow, for 
the means were most primitive and no depot of sup- 
plies was nearer than the seacoast cities, with pack- 
horse transportation the only means of communication, 
It was spring of 1801 before the hull was ready to 
launch, and the occasion was made a gala-day in the 
village. No work was done there that day except by 
those engaged in the launch, and people had gathered 
from miles around for the important event. The vessel 
was wreathed and festooned with flowers and green 
leaves and the national colors. A piece of artillery, 
brought all the way from the fort at Pittsburgh, was 
planted on the bank overlooking the ravine in which the 
vessel had been built, loaded and ready to roar forth its 
glad acclaim when the ship should strike the water. 

What more inspiriting sight is there than a launch, 
when the creature which has been slowly evolved from 
insensate materials seems to become imbued with life, 
and seeing in its first awakening consciousness the ele- 
22 


338 


Sim Greene. 


ment for which it was designed, rushes into its embrace ? 
Such a sight was that which greeted the eyes of hun- 
dreds gathered in this far inland village to witness, on 
that April day in the opening year of the Nineteenth 
Century, that unusual event, a ship launch. 

After the flight of years I see it all again. All has 
been made ready. Two long parallel ways have been 
laid under the whole length of the hull and to the water, 
having a gentle declivity. They have been made smooth 
by planing and then copiously greased. On them have 
been laid the slides, also smoothed on the sides of con- 
tact with the ways. The spaces between slides and hull 
have been built up with blocks, and wedges are inserted 
at the points of contact. Lashings of hemp firmly bind 
the slides and slide-ways together at one point in the 
course of each pair. 

Now the group of us gathered on the forecastle hear 
the voice of John Scott, loud and clear: “ All ready — 
wedge up ! ” followed by a din of mauls driving the 
wedges home. We feel the vessel as she settles on her 
new bearings. There comes a lull as the blocks are re- 
moved from under the keel, and then again the voice is 
heard : “ Knock out shores ! ” The clatter of the mauls 
this time is accompanied by the falling of the long 
shores, now relieved of their burden of months in sup- 
porting the hull. The lashings are the only things now 
holding the hull to the spot where it has grown up. It 
is a tense moment of absolute silence. Two men stand, 
one beside each of the lashings, with gleaming, broad- 
bladed, keen-edged axes upraised in their hands. Then 
come quickly the words : “ Ready — cut ! ” The axes 

descend with a single thud, the taut lashings fall apart 
under the stroke, shriveling from the sudden release of 


Sim Greene. 


339 


strain, and the ship, with a quiver at the start which 
becomes smooth gliding motion, increasing in speed as 
it goes, rushes down the ways, and with a mighty splash 
leaps into the water, which ripples and bubbles in ca- 
resses along its sides. 

At the moment of contact with the water the cannon 
belches forth its thunderous greeting, which wakes the 
echoes on the hillside beyond the stream, and these go 
rolling and reverberating along the valley. At the same 
moment Mabel Colling swings a great bottle over her 
head and shivers it in fragments on the vessel’s bow, 
allowing a generous flood of Monongahela rye whisky 
to go pouring down over its prow, with the words : “ I 
christen thee “ Monongahela Farmer! ” 

Very gracefully and proudly did the new ship ride 
the water, and give promise of the fame afterwards 
attained by it as a rapid sailer. It was loaded with 
products of the region about the Monongahela, chiefly 
flour, whisky and pelts. John Walker was appointed 
by its owners to be master and supercargo. His instruc- 
tions were to proceed with the vessel to Hew Orleans and 
there sell it and its cargo, if that could be done to ad- 
vantage ; otherwise to sail it to one of the islands of the 
West Indies, to be disposed of as his judgment should 
suggest. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


THE VOYAGE!. 

I T was about the time of the launch that Colonel Bay- 
ard made known to me the fact that important 
matters of business in which he was interested 
required either himself or an agent in whom he could 
trust implicitly to be in Louisville within a few weeks. 
It was a matter of great importance to him, but he did 
not feel that he could undertake the journey, having 
recently been suffering with rheumatism. He proposed 
that I should go in his stead, and made me a most gen- 
erous offer, if I should handle the matter successfully. 
His offer was a share in the ultimate profits of the en- 
terprise, which opened up great possibilities for the 
future, besides a cash consideration which would pay 
well for the time and effort it would involve. He sug- 
gested at the same time that the new ship would furnish 
an easy and pleasant means of making the journey down 
the river. 

A year before I would have answered promptly, say- 
ing I would go, but now I felt that another should be 
consulted before I gave a final answer. He commended 
that course, and I left him with thanks for his kindness 
in making me the tender, and telling him I would re- 
port my decision the following day. When I laid the 
matter before my wife she surprised me by saying : 

“ Tell him, certainly, you will go, and I will go with 
you.” 


340 


Sim Greene. 


341 


That took my breath, and when I recovered it I re- 
minded her of the hardships this would entail, especially 
on the return trip, but she asked if it would be a more 
toilsome journey than the one we had made over the 
mountains. I was forced to admit that it would not be 
so hard if we traveled by water each way, but, for all 
that, the return would still be very tedious. She said 
it would not be tedious with me along, and that settled 
it then and there. In fact, the thought of her compan- 
ionship on such a trip appealed to me as something 
delightful. There was no special danger to be appre- 
hended, there having been no Indian depredations in 
that part of the country since Wayne’s, decisive victory 
in the battle of Fallen Timbers, seven years before. 
The scene of the robbers’ operations, before referred to, 
was farther down the Ohio, and their retreat was sup- 
posed to be somewhere in the southern part of what 
afterwards became the state of Illinois. 

So it was settled that she should go along. We had 
it in mind to have Mabel spend the time while we were 
gone with the Bayards, but that young lady, on hearing 
of the project, announced most positively that she would 
go also. She said she knew she would enjoy the trip, 
and as no good reason could be urged why she should 
not be of the number, it was thus arranged. 

Sim also was to be of the party, being selected by 
Captain Walker as one of the crew, for he realized that 
our old friend would be a most useful man to have on 
the expedition. Sim had but recently returned from a 
trip on a keel-boat down the Ohio as far as Louisville. 
While I was in Philadelphia he had made two such 
trips, and he dropped some vague hints about having 
learned some things there which would cause people to 


342 


Sim Greene. 


open their eyes if they knew them. I more than half 
suspected that the primary object of his going in the 
first place was to see if he could learn anything about 
Harold, and especially with reference to the damaging 
stories in circulation concerning him. 

Just what he learned, if anything in that particular 
line, he kept to himself, hut on his return from this last 
trip he came to me with a request that, if possible, I 
would find out what Mabel had been doing on the night 
of Harold’s disappearance, whom she had been with and 
what had been said and done. He asked me not to ques- 
tion him for the present, but to get the information as 
fully as possible. I entrusted the matter to Mary, tell- 
ing her the little I knew. I also expressed my belief 
that Sim had found out something which he hoped 
.would inure to the advantage of the two young people in 
whom he was so deeply interested. 

Women have their own ways of working such mat- 
ters, so it was only a few days until my wife was ready 
to report. Waiting until she found Mabel in a proper 
mood, she, by practicing those little sisterly arts she had 
found useful when Mabel was a child, had drawn her 
out until, without the girl suspecting her intention, they 
had such a heart-to-heart talk as they had not had for 
years before. Mabel declared she did not know why 
Harold had gone off in the strange way he did, but 
expressed her abiding faith that he would yet stand 
forth vindicated of all that seemed to be against him. 
With tears in her eyes and her face hidden in her sis- 
ter’s bosom she confessed the depth of her affection for 
him and made known the grounds of her belief that he 
had been equally fond of her. Then she told of the 


Sim Greene. 


343 


weariness, the heartache and the tormenting doubts that 
often assailed her in this long waiting. 

Now, of course, it is understood that the reader is in 
possession of information as to the reason of Harold’s 
sudden going, which was not then known to Mabel or 
to any of the rest of us. 

Her sister did what she could to soothe her, and 
then pursued the advantage thus gained by asking about 
her whereabouts and doings on the night of his leaving. 
Could she remember? 

“ Can I remember ? There was not the most trivial 
occurrence of that night that is not stamped indelibly 
on my memory. Yes, indeed, I can tell you everything 
I did and said and all that happened in my presence 
that night. I have gone over it all in my thought often 
enough since.” 

Then she told of various things that had been done 
at the Bayard home that night, Mary repeated them 
to me and I went with them to Sim. When I came to 
a certain part of the narrative he hit me a slap on the 
thigh which caused it to smart and tingle for hours 
afterwards, and exclaimed : 

“ Waal, by the long tow rope! I jest thought thar 
wuz some sech tlummydoodle business abaout it as that ! 
An’ the leetle gal’s bent, on goin’ along, tew ! Waal, 
that’s jest the very thing. I wuz afeard we might hev 
to kidnap her, an’ drag her along, an’ all that sort uv 
thing. He ! he ! he ! ” 

Then he proceeded to tell me of some of the things 
he had learned down the river. In his several visits 
he had more than one interview with Harold. He 
would not say just where Harold was or what he was 
doing. He said he “ wanted to save that, for a surprise- 


344 


Sim Greene. 


ment for the hoy’s friends/’ hut vouchsafed the infor- 
mation that he was “ not very deep in the robbin’ busi- 
ness — guess we kin get him aout withaout hevin’ tew 
go tew the President for a pardon.” And then he 
indulged in one of his peculiar chuckles. 

He told me that he had found Harold on the occasion 
of his first trip down the river. The young man told 
him of what had happened in connection with the at- 
tempt to capture David Bradford, and how he had been 
compromised by the circumstances of that event. He 
sent loving messages and substantial reminders of his 
affection for his aunt, but requested that his where- 
abouts and present manner of living be not made public 
while that cloud hung over him. 

Sim had not been able to get anything out of Harold 
either on his first or second visit regarding the real 
reason for his leaving, and he would not discuss Mabel. 
But this last time the young man, who seemed much cast 
down, had unburdened himself to his sympathetic old 
friend and told him the whole story of how his life’s 
happiness had been blasted by what he had accidentally 
seen through the window of the Bayard home on that 
night more than six years before. Sim’s confidence in 
Mabel was unbounded, and he thought there must be 
some mistake about this, though he did not say so then. 
But he was warm in his expressions of sympathy for his 
young friend. He knew that Mabel and Ensign Sample 
had not married, and though perplexed concerning the 
matter he made up his mind that he would sift it to the 
bottom. 

It was only when we had the two stories together, 
Harold’s and Mabel’s, that we arrived at a correct un- 
derstanding of the situation. Then some things were 


Sim Greene. 345 

made clear to us which appeared in a very different 
light to them. 

Had Harold gone into the Bayard home that evening 
1 — yea, had he only sounded the knocker on which his 
hand rested, a young person in the uniform of an ensign 
in the Federal infantry service would have been seen 
to scamper away unceremoniously, and he would have 
been greeted gladly by a flushed and merry girl. Alice 
Sample had arrived in the village that day, having ac- 
companied Colonel Bayard home from Pittsburgh. The 
particular object of her coming was to get a uniform 
belonging to her brother, which had been left by him the 
last time he was at the Bayard home. He had been 
ordered to another post, and in the hurry of other mat- 
ters in the short time before he would have to start, 
could not make the trip himself, though he would greatly 
have preferred that arrangement. The girl’s coming 
was wholly unknown to Harold, as, indeed, it was un- 
expected to the Bayard household. 

After supper the Colonel went out and Mrs. Bayard 
was busied with duties which kept her in another part 
of the house, so the two girls had the living room to 
themselves. A wood fire was burning brightly, for the 
evenings were becoming chilly. In its glow the two 
girls sat for a time, chatting. Then Alice excused her- 
self, saying she would return shortly, and went to her 
room. Mabel sat alone, looking into the fire, and her 
thought brought a tender light to her eyes. It was not 
long she sat thus until, hearing a slight noise in the 
hallway, she looked up and was astonished to see, as she 
supposed, Frank Sample enter. 

His sister, whose fondness for pranks has been men- 
tioned, had attired herself in her brother’s clothing, 


346 


Sim Greene. 


which fitted her to perfection. Her hair was tucked up 
under the cap, and the illusion was complete. 

“ Why, Ensign Sample, where did you come from ? ” 
exclaimed the astonished girl, rising to meet the sup- 
posed visitor. 

The masquerader sought to keep up the deception by 
a reply, but her voice, which was wholly unlike her 
brother’s, betrayed her, and with a laugh she threw her- 
self down beside the other girl, who had sunk down on 
the sofa in a fit of laughter on discovering the real 
situation. The merry fit continued with both of them 
for some time, Alice finally exclaiming: 

“ How, we will pretend that I am your true love, a 
soldier bold, who has been ordered to go to the war. 
He comes to bid his sweetheart good-bye. They sit up 
close together and his arm is about her. They promise 
that they will be true to each other for aye. He bends 
for a last fond kiss, her tearful face is upturned to his, 
and ” 

Without hearing the words Harold had seen what fol- 
lowed, but instead of presenting a tearful face Mabel 
had thrown her head back in laughter and thus received 
the caress. This play was kept up for some time, and 
then Alice went upstairs and soon returned in her own 
proper attire. Mabel wondered frequently during that 
evening if Harold would not come in, and was disap- 
pointed when he failed to appear. We know why he did 
not come. 

Mary and I now wanted to tell Mabel all, but Sim 
would not hear to it. He had other plans, and as he 
had done so well in the matter thus far, we allowed 
him to have his own way. 

In due time the schooner Monongahela Farmer was 


Sim Greene. 


847 


fully ready to begin her first voyage. A freshet came 
opportunely with the water necessary to carry her over 
the shoals of the upper Ohio. A large crowd assembled 
to see the vessel leave. The day was a beautiful one in 
May. The forest-crowned hillsides along the river were 
great masses of bright green, broken here and there by 
patches of bloom. The birds were singing sweetly and 
the water was surging along in eddying currents which 
bore the vessel swiftly with it, when it got under way. 
A cheer went up from the people on shore and the can- 
non boomed a God-speed as the schooner moved off on 
her long journey. 

A stop was made at Pittsburgh, where some additions 
were made to the cargo and various supplies were laid 
in for the needs of the voyage. Here another large 
crowd assembled to see the unwonted sight of a sea- 
going vessel so far inland, and the people cheered and 
waved their farewells when the schooner again weighed 
anchor and swung into the current of the Ohio. So it 
was all along the way, an object of great interest to the 
wondering inhabitants. 

There were eight men and the two women on board. 
Comfortable and commodious quarters had been ar- 
ranged for all, and the company was found to be a con- 
genial one. We lived well on the provisions that had 
been stored on the vessel and the game and fish that Sim 
and others were constantly bringing in. Day after day 
the ship passed through the panorama of the Ohio val- 
ley, which the Prench voyageurs on their first view of 
it aptly termed “ The Beautiful,” and each day was one 
of delight. My wife insisted that it was our wedding 
tour, and the schooner our barge of state. Surely no 
such tour was ever more enjoyed. 


348 


Sim Greene. 


Mary, Sim and I, now fully in the conspiracy, were 
in high spirits. Sim especially bubbled over with the 
exuberance of his joyful feelings, and at times was al- 
most boyish in giving vent to these. Even Mabel showed 
greater animation than she had exhibited for a long 
time, and was more like her old self than I had seen 
her since Harold’s departure. The exhilaration of the 
trip, the new scenes, the lively company about her, con- 
spired to make her in some measure lose sight of her 
sorrow, and before we reached Louisville the roses were 
actually beginning to bloom in her cheeks again. 

Nothing untoward occurred to mar this part of the 
voyage, and in due time we arrived at Louisville, the 
end of the journey for my little party. Here it was 
found that the water in the river had fallen so that the 
vessel could not make the passage of the falls, and it was 
compelled to remain there three months before water 
came again in sufficient volume to allow it to proceed on 
its way. So we had our fellow travelers with us all the 
time we remained there. 


CHAPTER XL. 

WHILE BIRD AND SQUIRREL. SLEPT. 

I T is doubtful if a more wicked place was to be found 
anywhere than was Louisville at the time of our 
visit. A principal resort of the Ohio river keel- 
boatmen, it represented all that was worst in that class, 
whose wild life was then notorious and the memory of 
whose acts remain as a proverb of abandonment. It 
was but a straggling village at the time, but by reason 
of the frequent detention of boats at the falls many of 
this class were often congregated there. In its resident 
population the worst elements of frontier life were 
largely represented. Gambling resorts and low dives 
were to be found on every block, and drunken carousals 
were of daily occurrence, frequently resulting in trage- 
dies. Even the river pirates and other outlaws would 
resort there at times in numbers sufficient to secure their 
immunity. 

For these reasons our women kept close to the vessel, 
except for a few brief visits ashore by day, and I was 
beginning to reproach myself for having brought them. 
It seems the invasion of the worst elements was greater 
than usual while we were there, due to the drouth of 
mid-summer and the long suspension of navigation. I 
was % getting on well with my mission, but was not yet 
quite ready to turn my face homeward. 

It was at this time that we began to hear of the won- 
derful religious movement then sweeping over parts of 
349 


350 


Sim Greene. 


Kentucky. It was a revival wave which afterwards 
widened and spread until it reached the whole western 
country, our own section included. It began among the 
Methodists, but the flame spread to other churches, and 
before we left Kentucky we saw the unusual sight of 
Methodists, Presbyterians and Baptists working har- 
moniously together in the furtherance of this marvelous 
movement. It had not reached Louisville, but other 
parts of the territory were ablaze with the fervor of it. 
We had been hearing much of it and talking of it some- 
what among ourselves, when one day Sim came to me 
and said: 

“ Uv course I knowed Louisville wuzn’t jest next 
neighbor tew paradise, but it’s a leetle more hellbentu- 
ous jest naow than I ever see it afore. I ain’t so per- 
snickety abaout this as some people, but it don’t seem 
quite the right place for them,” pointing with his thumb 
to Mary and Mabel, who were sitting near by, talking. 
“ Abaout haow long ’ll it be necessary for you tew be 
hyar yet ? ” he asked. 

“ I could leave to-day if I had certain word,” I re- 
plied, “ but I cannot get that for a week yet I should 
like very much to get the ladies out of here in the mean- 
time, if that were possible.” 

“ That’s jest the ticket,” said Sim. Then he told me 
of a great Methodist camp-meeting in progress some 
miles inland, and suggested that we repair thither. He 
also imparted special reasons why he wanted our party 
to get into that vicinity, and I heartily seconded, the 
proposition. The vessel was practically a prison for 
Mary and Mabel, and they were delighted with the pros- 
pect when I laid the matter before them. I arranged 


Sim Greene. 


351 


the same day for horses for otir party, and early the 
next morning we were on the way. 

The road led a little south of east from Louisville, 
through a country heavily timbered, except where the 
settler’s axe had cleared it. At such places the luxu- 
riant growth of crops of all kinds attested the richness 
of the soil and adaptability of the climate to agriculture. 
Before nightfall we reached the scene of the camp- 
meeting, in what is now Shelby county in the state of 
Kentucky. In its general plan the camp-ground was 
much like that I have described, near Fell’s church. A 
great number of people had congregated, and one could 
not be there long without realizing a pervasive some- 
thing in the very atmosphere of the place, which was 
unusual. I first saw to securing a place for the two 
sisters to sleep, and this was supplied through the hos- 
pitality of the people. Sim and I had our blankets, and 
with these would do quite as well as hundreds of others 
there. 

When the time came for the evening service many 
more persons had gathered on the ground than were 
there on our arrival, and a vast throng was seated, fac- 
ing the preaching stand. In this a number of men were 
seated. The services were opened by singing, several 
familiar hymns being rendered without the formality of 
lining. I was struck with the heartiness of the singing 
and of the prayer which followed. The service was 
conducted by a man of singularly striking presence, who 
we learned was William McKendree, presiding elder of 
the Kentucky district. He was dignified in manner, 
with symmetry of form and a most benign and intelli- 
gent expression. With these went the graces of mind, 
tongue and heart, which made him the great preacher 


353 


Sim Greene. 


and enabled him to adorn the episcopal office to which 
he was later called. He introduced the preacher of the 
evening as “ Brother Taken.” 

Almost instantly I recognized the young man whose 
conversion I had witnessed at Fell’s. I learned after- 
wards that the family had emigrated to Kentucky not 
long after that event, and almost immediately he had 
begun to preach. He was then pastor on the Limestone 
circuit. His sermon that night was a powerful appeal 
to the unsaved, and it bore fruit in the conviction of 
many. The preachers sitting in the rear of the stand 
were in the shadow, and after the young man sat down 
another got up and came forward. In him I recognized 
another old acquaintance, for it was none other than 
Valentine Cook, whom I had seen and heard at Fell’s 
ten years before. Shortly before this he had introduced 
the custom of calling repentant sinners to the altar of 
the church to be prayed for, and this he did on this 
occasion most effectively. 

The scenes I had witnessed at Fell’s were in large 
measure repeated, but with one most peculiar addition. 
It was my first opportunity of witnessing that strange 
manifestation of the time known as the “ jerks.” Dur- 
ing the continuance of that service hundreds of persons 
were thus affected. They seemed to lose all control of 
their muscles, and these would jerk and twitch convul- 
sively, often throwing the persons from their feet It 
was observed that those who were actively engaged in 
the services or were living on a high spiritual plane were 
not thus affected, but it was always manifested in those 
who were resisting the impulse to enter into a better 
life or were making sport of the proceedings. Some of 


Sim Greene. 


353 


the most violent cases were among this last named class. 

The attacks came without any warning whatever, and 

often lasted for davs. 

»/ 

I do not pretend to be able to account for this phe- 
nomenon, but only add here my testimony to the well- 
attested fact of its existence then and for some years 
thereafter. 

Our little group had all noted and quietly remarked 
concerning a lady who sat across the aisle from us and 
whose appearance had attracted the notice of all. There 
was something familiar in the face, yet none of us could 
remember ever to have seen her before. She was past 
middle age, with snow-white hair and a countenance 
marked by intelligence and refinement. But a sadder 
face I thought I had never looked upon. She was an 
attentive listener to all of the services of the evening, 
and at times gave evidence of emotion. 

The ministers had all come down from the stand and 
were moving about among the throng of persons kneel- 
ing in front of the seated congregation, except one who 
still remained sitting there in the shadow with bowed 
head. He now arose and came to the front of the stand, * 
in the glare of the light from the blazing fires at each 
side. Three of our little party were prepared for it, 
and I instantly recognized him. My wife gave my 
hand a pressure and I glanced at Mabel. She was 
deadly pale, leaning slightly forward, her eyes wide 
open and gazing at the man who was just beginning to 
speak. Suddenly we were all startled by an exclama- 
tion from the lady across the aisle, and glancing that 
way saw her greatly agitated. 

“ In God’s name, who is he ? ” she exclaimed. 

“ That,” said Sim verv impressively and in a low 
23 


354 


Sim Greene. 


tone, and making a sweeping bow which comprehended 
our group and the lady opposite, “ is the Reverend 
Harold Harden ! ” 

Then the stranger fell in a faint and Mabel looked 
as if she might go the same way, but her sister’s arms 
were about her and she was whispering something in 
the girl’s ear. Persons near took up the limp body of 
the woman who had fainted and bore her to an open 
space in the rear of the enclosure, where some of the 
women remained, working with her. Mabel lay back in 
her sister’s arms, her bosom heaving convulsively and 
tears trickling from under her closed eyelids. 

The whole scene was so much like many others en- 
acted that night that it attracted but little notice. The 
speaker was not disturbed by it, if he noticed it at all, 
and did not recognize any of the actors in it, the light 
not being clear where they were. He went on with his 
appeal, which was a most tender one, for those who 
were in rebellion against their best Friend to be recon- 
ciled to Him. It was in marked contrast to the impas- 
sioned utterances of most of the other speakers of the 
evening, but it touched many hearts that had not been 
impressed before, and brought them out in a declaration 
for the better life. 

When he finished my wife raised her sister and spoke 
to her, motioning to me at the same time. We arose 
and went back to where the lady lay. A little before 
this Sim had moved off in a different direction. The 
lady was just recovering consciousness when we reached 
her. 

“ Oh, is it true, or did I dream it ? ” she asked, with 
wild longing in her tone. Catching sight of Mary she 
said : “ What did they say his name is ? ” 


Sim Greene. 


355 


“ Harold Harden,” said my wife ; “ and that is true, 
for I know him well.” 

“ Oh, my son ! my son ! ” was the response. “ Bring 
him to me.” 

J ust then I saw the young minister approaching hur- 
riedly, escorted by Sim, and at the same time I per- 
ceived that Mabel had disappeared. 

“ Harold,” said my wife, arising and offering her 
hand, “ here is a lady who says she is your mother. 
Do you know her ? ” 

“ My mother ? ” he asked in astonishment. 

“ Yes,” said the excited woman, who was struggling 
up but would have fallen back if I had not caught her. 
“ I don’t need to ask you if you are the son of John 
Harden, the boat builder. You are the exact counter- 
part of your brother, and my heart tells me without 
anything else that you are my son. And a minister of 
the gospel ! Oh, my son ! ” 

“ And you are my mother ! I know it ! I have long 
known your features, my dearest mother ! ” 

How she was clasped in his strong arms, and for 
some time they remained thus. My wife was weeping 
unrestrainedly, a misty something was before my eyes, 
and Sim was using his red bandanna handkerchief vig- 
orously while sounding loud blasts on his nose. 

“ Waal, if this don’t beat all heneration ! ” he ex- 
claimed. “ I thought I had arranged things for a right 
purty leetle scene myself, but my calkelations ’s all 
knocked intew a cocked hat. But, say, Harold, if you 
can excuse yourself from your maw for a bit I hev 
another word for you that I think you’d prob’ly like tew 
hear.” 

With a reverent kiss on her cheek Harold seated his 


356 


Sim Greene. 


mother near by and, after shaking hands with me, moved 
a few paces to where Sim was standing. They con- 
versed for a time in low tones, the young man exhibiting 
rising excitement. 

1 “ Jest as we kem up I see her saunterin’ up past that 

big whiteoak,” we heard Sim say as he came towards 
us, and Harold moved off quickly in the direction in- 
dicated. 

It was a long time before he returned, and his mother 
was beginning to show signs of uneasiness. She was 
too excited then to tell her story in any connected way, 
as we learned it later, but she questioned us eagerly 
about. Harold and the others of his household. We had 
to tell her, of course, of John Harden’s death, though 
we refrained then from detailing the manner of it. 
She was visibly affected by the news. When Harold 
finally returned he was not alone but accompanied by 
Mabel, now radiantly happy. What passed between 
them in that interview under the trees only they knew, 
and they did not tell. The birds and squirrels had 
long been asleep, so this time it must remain the lovers’ 
secret. 

Harold introduced Mabel to his mother as his prom- 
ised wife, and the hungry mother-heart had in it noth- 
ing of jealousy at discovering another object of her son’s 
affection. She received her with open arms and heart 
Mrs. Harden now told us that her home was not distant, 
and there we must all go. The meeting had ended for 
the night, and we started at once. On the way she 
told us of her other son whom we should find there, 
very ill. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


LIFTED CURTAINS. 

A NOTHER surprise awaited us at the Harden 
home. Stretched on a bed and evidently in 
sickness unto death lay a young man who in 
health must have been marvellously like Harold in 
appearance. Even now, though he was emaciated and 
white, there was a striking resemblance to his brother. 
He was racked by a cough which attacked him fre- 
quently and convulsed his whole frame. He was 
peevish and evidently a trying patient to care for, hut 
his mother was untiring in her attentions to him. After 
preparing him for it she introduced the brother he had 
never known, but beyond a pressure of the hand and a 
question or two he manifested no further interest, and 
soon dropped asleep. 

There was not much sleep for anyone else in that 
house that night. In another apartment stories were 
exchanged and many matters cleared up. Mrs. Har- 
den’s narrative was of absorbing interest to her new 
found son, as, indeed, it was to the rest of us. I can 
give it but briefly in outline. 

Mrs. Harden was of a good family in England, and 
had married against the protests of her people. Im- 
mediately the young couple had emigrated to America. 
She had fallen in love on short acquaintance with J ohn 
Harden, and did not know of his faults and weaknesses 
as she might have known had she taken opportunity to 

357 


358 


Sim Greene. 


inform herself. He was kind to her when sober, hut 
brutal when drinking. The wife realized her folly 
when it was too late. She suffered many indignities in 
silence, hut when finally he struck her, her proud spirit 
could no longer endure life beneath his roof. Her twin 
boys were then but a few weeks old. She was not. able 
to take both of them, but chose the one which was the 
weaker, and exacted a promise from Harden’s sister, 
then in the household, that she would care for the other 
one until the mother could return and claim him. She 
then went forth. 

Unexpectedly she encountered friends of her youth 
just about to return to England. Their vessel was on 
the point of sailing. She had enough money to pay her 
passage across the ocean, and resolved to go, but. de- 
termined to secure the other baby later, if possible. Ar- 
rived at her old home, her family would receive her 
only on condition that she would give up all thought of 
returning to Harden, and this she promised. She was 
ill for a long time after that, doubtless as a result of 
all she had endured. Her relatives refused to be the 
means of any communication between her and her hus- 
band’s household, and it was more than a year before 
she was herself able to write to her sister-in-law. In 
the meantime, unknown to her, Harden had gone from 
Boston to Philadelphia, and the letter never reached the 
person for whom it was intended. 

She always cherished the hope of recrossing the 
ocean and searching for her boy, but was not able to do 
so until years afterwards. On the death of those with 
whom she had lived, and coming into some means, she 
had undertaken the journey and search. Her son 
Henry, then grown to manhood, accompanied her. He 


Sim Greene. 


359 


had been made aware of her story and the object of her 
search. He had little interest in the father or brother 
he had never knowingly seen, but welcomed the oppor- 
tunity for adventure. He was wayward from early 
boyhood, and beyond his mother’s control by this time, 
but always the object of her loving care. 

On reaching Boston Mrs. Harden found, after much 
inquiry, that her husband had gone from there to Phila- 
delphia long before. At that city another long and 
tedious search was made, and with even less result. For 
a long time nobody could be found who knew anything 
about the Hardens. Finally an old boat-builder was 
found who had some recollection of them. He said 
they had gone some years before to the west. He did 
not know just where, but thought it probable it was 
Pittsburgh. That was all he could tell and all Mrs. 
Harden could learn by the most diligent inquiry. 

With this slender thread to guide them Mrs. Harden 
and her son made their journey over the mountains, 
following the Pennsylvania road that we traversed in 
the earlier years. Arriving at Simerall’s ferry, a boat 
was found just ready to start down the Youghiogheny 
river for Pittsburg. They boarded it without making 
further inquiry, and reached Pittsburgh in July, 1794. 
Had they pushed on nine miles to the Monongahela to 
take passage they would have found the object of their 
search. As it was they passed within five miles of the 
place in their descent of the Youghiogheny. 

They were in Pittsburgh some weeks, but Mrs. Har- 
den could learn nothing. Her son did not concern him- 
self much with the matter, but spent most of his time 
in hunting or consorting with boon companions whose 
acquaintance he seemed to have the faculty of forming 


360 


Sim Greene. 


readily and over whom lie could always exert an in- 
fluence. At Pittsburgh Mrs. Harden learned of the 
great tide of emigration down the Ohio and of some boat 
building operations in that section. It was in some 
such settlement that she hoped to find her son, if he still 
lived, and just when she was about to suggest to Henry 
that they make a journey down that river he came to 
her with a like proposition. Some of his friends had 
told him things about that country which made him 
want to go there, and accordingly they made the voyage, 
but with no better success than had attended former 
efforts. 

They remained for a time at Louisville, but Mrs. 
Harden did not like the place. They then secured the 
place in which we found them, where they had been 
living for some years. Her health had not been vigor- 
ous in these latter years, and she had been compelled to 
entrust the further search to her son. He was engaged 
as a boatman, she said, but had never been able to 
secure any further information concerning his brother. 
He was much away from home with his business on the 
river, and there he had contracted the cold resulting in 
his illness. For some time he had been unable to leave 
home, and for some weeks had been rapidly growing 
worse. 

Harold’s story did not take long to tell. At first he 
had not been able to find work at his trade in Kentucky, 
but had turned to hunting and trapping, as he had done 
in Pennsylvania, with good success. He was often 
homesick. Once, some months after his arrival there, 
he met an acquaintance who had emigrated from the 
Mingo region after he did, and who told him much of 
the gossip of the neighborhood. Among other things 


Sim Greene. 


361 


he referred to Ensign Sample’s devotion to Mabel and 
the belief in the neighborhood when he left that a 
match would soon result. Then Harold plunged deep 
into the woods, and only made such occasional journeys 
to civilization in two years as were necessary to dispose 
of his peltries and get supplies. On two such occasions 
he took advantage of opportunities to send letters con- 
taining money to his aunt. Then for a time he found 
work at boat building, and while thus engaged Sim 
found him first. He continued thus for two years, and 
then the old longing for the woods coming on him, he 
pushed far into the interior again. It was while thus 
engaged that he attended a camp-meeting one night. 
He wasTieart-sick and despondent, and felt that he must 
get near some sympathizing human being. 

The minister who got up to speak shortly after his 
arrival on the grounds read some of the opening verses 
of the first chapter of Isaiah. He laid particular stress 
on the fourth verse : “ Ah, sinful nation, a people laden 
with iniquity, a seed of evil doers, children that are 
corrupters ; they have forsaken the Lord, they have pro- 
voked the Holy One of Israel to anger; they had gone 
away backward.” Then he proceeded to reproach the 
people with their sins and ingratitude. They deserved 
only wrath, and it was coming quickly and with awful 
result upon them unless they turned about “ Look on 
yourselves,” he cried. “ Only pollution can you see. 
From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no 
soundness ; but wounds and bruises and putrefying sores. 
You are sinners by nature and worse by practice. Many 
of you are in this country even as fugitives from jus- 
tice.” 

Harold was longing for something, but in his state 


362 


Sim Greene. 


this did not appeal to him, and he was about to get up 
and leave when the speaker sat down and a young man 
took his place. He said: “ My brethren, we have 
heard the solemn warning as spoken by the prophet of 
old to a sinful people, and repeated by authority to all 
such now. But I am so glad the message did not stop 
there, and does not stop there to-day. Listen to its 
further words : i Come, now, let us reason together, 
saith the Lord ; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, 
they shall be as wool. If ye be willing and obedient, ye 
shall eat of the good of the land.’ ” 

Then he appealed tenderly to those who were carrying 
burdens to lay them upon Him who came to be the great 
burden bearer. That message went straight to at least 
one heart in the crowd of listeners. He felt that he was 
bearing heavy burdens, and longed for relief from them. 
In his loneliness and hunger for sympathy something 
seemed to draw him to the speaker who had quoted these 
gracious words. When the meeting closed, soon after- 
wards, Harold sought ouc the young preacher and had 
a talk with him. He learned that his name was Ben- 
jamin Laken and that he had come from the valley of 
the Monongahela. He was sympathetic and showed a 
warm interest in Harold and his troubles. The two 
soon became fast friends. Harold had lived a moral 
life, but never before had such deep religious impres- 
sions been made on him. lie felt a longing for some- 
thing that he had not. Under Benjamin Laken’s in- 
struction and the earnest seeking of his own burdened 
heart he was led into an experience which brought him 
much of peace and comfort. 

Soon after that he became conscious of a call to en- 


Sim Greene. 


363 


gage in this same good work. At first he shrank from 
the thought. He had never considered the ministry as 
his life calling, and his timidity suggested that he could 
never be a preacher. But conscience was insistent, and 
the new friends advised him to follow its leadings. 
Then he became obedient. He applied himself to study, 
under direction of sympathizing friends, and had been 
preaching about a year when we found him. He had 
found much joy in the work, though his heart was not 
wholly without its burden until this night. How, 
having found in the same hour wife and mother, both 
of whom he had thought lost to him for all of this world, 
was there a man who could find more for which to be 
thankful ? 

Harold had known for years some of the circum- 
stances of the unhappy things connected with his in- 
fancy. His father never would talk of the matter, but 
when he was eighteen years old his aunt told him of 
the separation and the possibility that his mother and 
brother still lived. With his characteristic reticence he 
never mentioned this to anybody, but brooded over it, 
and it added to the burden of sorrow he carried. At 
the same time the dream face and form of his mother 
became even more real to him, and he declared now 
that his mental picture of her was true to the reality as 
he found it. 

In the days that followed Harold was much with his 
brother. At first Henry showed indifference to his 
state or the rapid approach of the end of all things 
earthly to him, so apparent to the rest of us. But 
finally he became interested, the loving solicitude of his 
brother impressing him. Then deep despondency seized 
him, and he said it was too late to be other than he had 


364 


Sim Greene. 


always been. His inclination had ever seemed to be 
towards wrong. How he would like to lead a better life, 
but it was too late! Harold assured him that it was 
not too late to begin to do right, and thfe desire for a 
better life was proof that there was pardon and peace 
for him. 

Then the two brothers had a long and confidential 
talk. Henry told of his life of the past years. He had 
been chief of a band of robbers who had operated on the 
Ohio river and had their retreat in a cave on the 
northern shore of that river. He had never taken life, 
and had always exercised the power he possessed over 
his followers to restrain them from that, but he was a 
man loaded with guilt, going into the presence of his 
Maker.^ Harold told him it was for just such guilt- 
laden creatures that the Son of God came into the 
world, and reminded him of the malefactor saved on the 
cross. Surely there could be no more desperate case 
than that. This seemed to give the dying man hope, 
and he clung to that thought until it was clearly im- 
pressed and borne in upon him that there could be and 
even was pardon for him. His mother was not told and 
never knew what his life on the river had been. 

One other thing cleared up in the conversation was 
with regard to what had occurred on the occasion of the 
first attack on the Hevill house. That was just at the 
time Mrs. Harden and her son were making their stop 
in Pittsburgh. Henry had gone on a hunting trip the 
day before, and being overtaken by night, had stayed 
with a farmer in the valley of Chartiers creek. He 
started out early the next morning to make his way back 
to Pittsburg, and came unexpectedly on the men gath- 
ered in front of the Hevill house. He did not under- 


Sim Greene. 


3G5 


stand its significance, but was always ready for an ad- 
venture, and hence he stopped to see the matter through. 
He did not know what to make of the queer challenge 
given him by the old man of the party and the conver- 
sation following, until he discovered that the man was 
intoxicated. Then he dismissed the matter, thinking it 
was due to the drunken imaginings of some old toper, 
and it did not occur to him to mention the circumstance 
to his mother. 


CHAPTER XLII. 


LIGHT AT EVENING TIME. 

T HE next day, just before sunset, we had all gath- 
ered in the room where Henry lay, feeling 
that the end was at hand. His mother knelt 
at one side of the couch and his brother at the other, 
each holding one of his hands. He spoke with an effort 
a few sentences, broken and halting at times, in which 
he bewailed a wasted life, but testified his joy in know- 
ing that an arm had been stretched forth and had 
snatched him, as it were, a brand from the burning. 
At this his eyes rested lovingly on the face of the 
brother who had pointed the way. 

Just then the sun, which had been obscured by 
clouds, suddenly shone forth, a level ray coming through 
the window and touching the pallid face, lighting it up 
as with the dawning of celestial glory. He smiled in 
the eyes of the watchers by his bed and essayed to speak 
again, but the effort resulted only in a sigh in which 
life went out, and Henry Harden was in the presence of 
the Author of life and its laws. 

I thought in that moment of Colonel Bayard and his 
theories. How much the course of this man’s earthly 
career had been shaped by the law of heredity, who 
could tell ? And in the final summing up, how should 
the responsibility be apportioned and the accounting 
required ? Only the mind of the Infinite is capable of 
dealing justly to all in such a bewildering complexity 
366 


Sim Greene. 


367 


as this suggests. But He has told us that He does it, 
while “ visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the 
children unto the third and fourth generation of them 
that hate me; but showing mercy unto thousands of 
them that love me and keep my commandments.” And 
shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? 

What remains can soon be told. I had to return to 
Louisville to look after the matters committed to me 
there, and Mabel declared that she and Mary would 
accompany me. Harold had gained her consent for an 
early marriage, but she insisted on exercising the bride’s 
prerogative in designating the time, place, and, so far as 
she could control them, the attendant circumstances. 
The Colonel’s matter went well, and soon I was in 
position to report to him a state of affairs better than 
the most sanguine expectation of either of us had pic- 
tured. I may as well say here that this opened for me 
the way to that comfortable existence which has been 
mine and my family’s ever since. Hot that I have 
ever been a rich man, but I am thankful to the Giver of 
all good that want has never come to my household in 
all the years since its establishment. 

Mabel’s notion was to have the ceremony on the 
schooner. That, she said, was her domicile of the 
time, and it was unseemly that she should remain at the 
home of the bridegroom’s mother for the marriage. Of 
course she was allowed to have her way, and on a bright 
day came Harold, his mother and the presiding elder, 
the Reverend William McKendree. This arrangement, 
of course, was by the bride’s direction also. She said 
since she was to be a Methodist in the future, a Meth- 
odist preacher should perform the marriage ceremony, 
though she did not know she was choosing one who a 


368 Sim Greene. 

few years later would be an honored bishop of the 
church. 

Captain Walker had entered heartily into the plan, 
and with his men had so worked the evening before that 
the schooner was even more gay with decorations than 
when she first kissed the waters of the Monongahela. 
The Kentucky woods were rich with flowers and vines 
suitable for such decoration, and these were garlanded 
and festooned so that the main deck became a veritable 
bower of beauty. Amid the bloom and fragrance the 
words were said which made Harold and Mabel husband 
and wife. 

The captain and crew, with our little party, formed 
the wedding company. The bride was rosy and charm- 
ing, with much of the vivacity of former days, and the 
groom, while in a state of exalted happiness, evidenced 
that serious sense of the solemnity of the occasion which 
must have been his also when he took the ordination 
vows. Sim had quietly arranged a little demonstration 
in honor of the event, with the consent and aid of 
Captain Walker. Promptly on the conclusion of the 
ceremony a six-pounder carried by the vessel boomed 
forth a salute, and it was answered by a shot from a 
cannon in a concealed position on the shore. During 
the following hour these salutes were frequently re- 
peated by the crew and some of their friends. 

The hunter was in high glee over this consummation 
of the happiness of his two young friends, which had 
been brought about largely through his efforts. When 
Mabel, with mischief in her eyes, intimated that he was 
neglecting to exercise his privilege of kissing the bride, 
he approached her gingerly, but gave her a resounding 


Sim Greene. 


369 


smack. Mabel put her arms around his neck and kissed 
him heartily, and he retired, blushing furiously. 

“ Waal, naow,” he remarked, thoughtfully, after a 
moment, “ I don’t know but what I’d hitch up myself 
if I c’d find a wumman that’d hev me.” 

Harold took up his work in Kentucky at once, and - 
Mabel fitted surprisingly well into the trying position 
of an itinerant preacher’s wife ; but she always had the 
tender heart and ready sympathy, and, under trial, had 
been taught the patience, which were the requisites of 
those heroines of the frontier ministry. Harold became 
a noted minister of his denomination. In his zeal for 
the success of the cause to which his life was devoted he 
lost the backwardness which had been a hindrance in 
his earlier years, but ever remained modest and unas- 
suming, even when he became famous as a preacher. 
Later he preached all over the western Pennsylvania 
region where his boyhood and young manhood had been 
spent, but the call of his church was to move westward 
with the advance of settlement, and thus went on his 
noble work until the end, no small part of its success 
being due to the sympathy, the encouragement and the 
active help of his consecrated wife. 

Mary and I returned home on a keel-boat, a slow 
voyage, but by no means devoid of its pleasures. In 
due time the waters of the Ohio so swelled that the 
schooner was able to pass the falls and proceed on her 
way. There was another detention of some days on a 
bar a short distance above Hurricane Island, and from 
that circumstance the place took the name of Walker’s 
Bar, which it bears to this day. It is not far from the 
location of a grotto, called Cave-in-Rock, discovered in 
after years on the edge of the river in southern Illinois, 

24 


Sim Greene. 


which was the hiding place of the robber band of the 
lower Ohio. It continued to be occupied by a band of 
river pirates for some years. Grewsome evidence that 
these were not restrained from committing murder after 
losing their young leader was furnished by the finding 
of parts of more than one hundred human skeletons far 
back in the depths of the cave after the band was finally 
broken up. But the Monongahela Farmer safely passed 
this peril and finally reached Hew Orleans where the 
vessel and cargo were disposed of. 

Sim returned with Captain Walker. He came to 
me not long after in trouble and embarrassment, and 
asked my advice as to what was the best method of pro- 
cedure under given circumstances, to attain a desired 
end. I gave him such advice as I could and he left me, 
but apparently in trouble still and in much doubt as to 
his ability to carry the enterprise to a successful con- 
summation. It was not long, however, until he returned 
and said he u guessed everything wuz fixed up segump- 
tiously.” Shortly after that he and Hannerybeck were 
married, and Harold, who, with his wife, had come for 
a visit to the old home, performed the ceremony to the 
great delight of the happy couple. 

My work is ended in the telling of my narrative, and 
in the natural order of things my work here below must 
soon have its finis also. The summons, when it comes, 
will not be unwelcome to me, for with the companions 
of youth all passed over, there are more friends on that 
side than on this. Sometimes I long to go and be with 
them, but “ my times are in his hands,” and so I sit, 
waiting. I realize a Presence with me, and verily at 
evening time it is light. 



r 



Cave-in-Rock. 






. 

























- 

. 






























\ 






AFTER MANY YEARS 


371 







AFTER MANY YEARS. 

I like old things, and especially am I interested 
in them if they have historical associations. Musty 
records of a century or more ago have for me a 
delightful aroma, while a packet of old letters has a 
positive charm. A sword or uniform which belonged to 
a Revolutionary hero has my profound veneration, and 
an old burying ground is sufficient to afford me interest- 
ing occupation for hours. 

Recently I spent a number of days in copying inscrip- 
tions from tombstones and hunting up other evidences 
left to tell something of people spoken of in the fore- 
going pages. All were within a few miles of my home, 
and the reader can see all of them for himself if he 
cares to follow my footsteps and visit the various spots 
referred to. 

Just beyond the town limits to the south, in an old 
burying ground, are three graves, marked by rough 
stones which contain initials only. In the memory of 
the oldest persons living tradition has always said that 
here were buried men who subsequently died from the 
effects of wounds sustained in the battle when the home 
of the Inspector of Revenue was burned. Crossing the 
river and proceeding up the stream a short distance, a 
few broken stones on the brow of the hill, at a point com- 
manding a fine view of the river and town, mark the 
location of the old Virginia court house. Just back of 
it, in the hollow, is an old burying ground in the oldest 
373 


After Many Years. 

corner of which are a number of mounds which mark 
the graves of Morgan’s soldiers who died of smallpox 
the winter following the suppression of the Whisky In- 
surrection. Their camping place was on the river 
bottom near by, and before me as I write are sundry 
buttons, buckles, coins and other relics dropped by the 
soldiers and picked up there in after years. 

Only two of the graves have headstones, and these 
give the information that one was a captain and the 
other a lieutenant, both from Virginia, and each but 
twenty years of age. Near these is a large flat stone 
with a plain inscription reading as follows : “ In 

memory of Capt. Gabriel Peterson, an •officer of the 
Revolution, who departed this life on the 12th day of 
February, A. D. 1832, in the 84th year of his age.” 

Moving but a short distance up the river valley, I 
soon came to the old McFarlane farm with its broad 
fields, recently laid out in town lots and already taking 
on the appearance of a village. But the old house still 
stands on the bank of the river, habitable and strong, 
showing how well it was builded more than a century 
ago. Here Andrew McFarlane and his wife had their 
home after the Revolution ; here they reared their large 
family and here they died. Here lived with them the 
bachelor brother, Major James McFarlane; here was 
brought his dead body on the night march back from 
the fatal expedition led by him, whence it was borne on 
the day following for burial at Mingo church. Here 
also John Walker operated the ferry before sailing the 
first ship down the rivers to the sea. Back from the 
house, on a little knoll, part of which was cut away in 
the grading for the railroad, two graves were found. 
They were on the top of the little hill and marked by 
374 


After Many Years. 

large flat stones, covering the entire graves and laid 
even with the surface of the ground. Their inscrip- 
tions, perfectly legible, tell that they mark the last rest- 
' ing places of Andrew McFarlane and his wife. 

Up the river three miles to Huston’s Run, and hack 
through the country two miles more, passing on the way 
the pretty cascade where the telling of David Froman’s 
love was prevented, historic old Mingo church and 
burial ground were reached. The object of the greatest 
interest to me there is James McFarlane’s grave. It 
is covered by a large flat stone set on low pillars. The 
inscription is now almost illegible, but fortunately it 
was copied years ago and preserved, as follows : 

Here lies the body of Capt. James McFarlane, of Wash- 
ington County, Pa., who departed this life the 17th of 
July, 1794, aged 43 years. He served during the war with 
undaunted courage, in defense of American independence, 
against the lawless and despotic encroachments of Great 
Britain. He fell at last by the hands of an unprincipled 
villain, in support of what he supposed to be the rights 
of his country, much lamented by a respectable and numer- 
ous circle of acquaintances. 

As a matter of fact the house in which he made his 
home was ascertained by later and more accurate sur- 
veys to be in Allegheny county, though the farm is 
partly in Washington county. Major McFarlane’s 
sword is in possession of a descendant of his brother, 
living at Circleville, Pa., and is highly prized. 

Another grave there possessing peculiar interest to me 
is marked by a plain slab with this inscription : “ J ohn 

Hollcroft, died Oct. 16, 1816, in the 75th year of his 
age.” Beside it is another, inscribed: “Rachel, wife 
375 


After Many Years. 

of John Hollcroft, died April 12, 1853, in the 90th 
year of her age.” 

John Hollcroft was the reputed original “ Tom the 
Tinker.” Most of the histories incorrectly spell his 
name with but one 1. The imputation that he was the 
redoubtable Tom was denied immediately after the sup- 
pression of the Insurrection, but denial was very much 
in order at that time. It is known that he was a promi- 
nent citizen in comfortable circumstances, a distiller, 
and holder of some offices of trust and responsibility in 
the government of his township. But many who were 
prominent in the excesses of that time could accurately 
be so described. It is well established also that he led 
the first party to General Nevill’s house, in the demand 
for a surrender of his commission, when the first blood 
of the Insurrection was shed. 

The chief actors in the Insurrection were very re- 
luctant to talk about it after its suppression, and no 
better proof of this can be found than the outcome of an 
effort, to learn from their descendants, still in the neigh- 
borhood, family traditions of personal experiences in 
the struggle. Such an effort, recently made and prose- 
cuted with diligence, was productive of but meagre re- 
sults. But in the case of Hollcroft it was a little difi 
ferent. His widow outlived nearly all of her genera- 
tion, her life extending through more than half of the 
last century. Two of her grandsons who conversed with 
her often have assured me that there can be no doubt 
about John Hollcroft being the original Tom the Tinker. 
One of these was a well known physician and Methodist 
preacher, who in his life was much interested in gather- 
ing data concerning the Insurrection and the part played 
in it by his grandfather, but which, unfortunately, he 
376 


After Many Years. 

did not live to utilize in a contemplated book on the 
subject. The other still lives, a respected farmer, whose 
testimony on any matter would be taken without ques- 
tion by his neighbors. 

That Tom the Tinker came to be an* idea, representa- 
tive of the cause of the insurgents, there is little reason 
to doubt, and their huzzas for him were frequently for 
this idea. Doubtless also, during the years of disturb- 
ance, notices which he did not write or authorize, but 
signed “ Tom the Tinker,” were posted or sent to per- 
sons. But I regard it as well established that John 
Hollcroft was the original Tom, and present his portrait 
in this work as such. It is an accurate copy of a rare 
and curious old painting that fortunately I stumbled 
upon in my investigations. It was painted on a panel 
of poplar wood, and the name of the artist has been pre- 
served — Charles Header, a neighbor of Hollcroft in the 
early days of the nineteenth century. Its colors are 
still bright and clear. (See frontispiece.) 

In the old Mingo cemetery also are buried General 
John Hamilton, David Hamilton and others who figured 
with more or less prominence in the Whisky Insurrec- 
tion. The most conspicuous monument is that erected 
by his congregation in loving remembrance of the 
Reverend Samuel Ralston, D. D., the first pastor of the 
old church, who continued to serve that people for more 
than half a century. The place is directly on the 
trolley line between Pittsburgh and Monongahela. 

The grave of Benjamin Parkinson is in the burial 
ground of the Pigeon Creek Presbyterian church, 
marked by a plain stone which tells of his death in 1831, 
at the age of 84 years. The most interesting memorial 
of him I found was his pardon, which hangs framed in 
377 


After Many Years. 

the library of one of Monongahela’s hankers, and reads 
as follows : 

THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES 

TO ALL PERSONS TO WHOM THESE PRESENTS SHALL COME, 
GREETING I 

Whereas, Benjamin Parkinson, of the County of Wash- 
ington, in the State of Pennsylvania, gentleman, now 
stands indicted of High Treason, committed within said 
state, And whereas, it is represented to me by David Lenox 
Esquire, late Marshal of the District of Pennsylvania, and 
others, that the conduct of the said Benjamin Parkinson 
during the late insurrection was particularly humane and 
friendly to the said David Lenox and to Presly Nevill 
Esquire, then aiding and assisting the officers of govern- 
ment, who by his interference were preserved from further 
personal outrage. And application hath been made to me 
in behalf of the said Benjamin Parkinson to grant him a 
pardon of the said offense whereof he stands indicted. 
Therefore, I, George Washington, President of the United 
States, in consideration of the premises, have thought 
proper and by these presents do grant unto the said Ben- 
treason or treasons whereof he stands indicted : — willing and 
requiring all prosecutions and judicial proceedings against 
him by reason thereof to be withdrawn and discharged. 

Done at Philadelphia the third day of March in the year 
of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven 
and of the independence of the United States the twenty- 
first. In testimony whereof I have hereunto subscribed 
my name and caused the seal of the United States to be 
affixed the same day and year. G o. WASHINGTON. 

By the President : 

(Seal) Timothy Pickering, 

Secretary of State. 

378 


After Many Years. 

After the destruction of his house overlooking Char- 
tiers creek, General Nevill made his home on what was 
then called Montour’s Island, in the Ohio river. His 
descendants added a final e to the patronymic, and the 
name is preserved in the present designation of that in- 
sular township of Allegheny county, Neville Island. 
The General died there in 1803. 

The farm up the Forks where formerly stood the old 
Black Horse Tavern, it is said is about to be converted 
into a trolley park. A stone church, now very old, is 
the successor of the original Fell’s Methodist church. 
Both Hound Hill and Hehoboth Presbyterian churches 
have modem buildings. The old stone mansion, built 
more than a century ago by Colonel Edward Cook, still 
stands. Colonel Cook died Nov. 27th, 1808, in his 
seventieth year, and his remains lie in the burial ground 
at Hehoboth church, as do those of his pastor, the 
Heverend James Finley, who died January 6th, 1795, 
at the age of sixty-nine years. 

Colonel Stephen Bayard, who died December 13th, 
1815, was buried in the ground surrounding the First 
Presbyterian church of Pittsburgh. If a stone was set 
up over his grave it has been lost. Recently, in the re- 
moval of the old graves to make room for building opera- 
tions there, in the heart of what is now the great city, 
all efforts to identify his burial place were in vain. His 
gentle wife, who survived him but a year, was buried in 
the public burial ground at Elizabeth, then carefully 
maintained, but now an unkept wilderness, and her 
grave also has been lost to all knowledge of the present 
generation. But her name lives and shall live m the 
thriving town in the midst of which her dust reposes. 
In an enclosure adjoining the public burying ground 
379 


After Many Years. 

lie the remains of Major John Walker, as he came to 
be known from his office in the militia, and the stone 
erected there tells that he died June 4th, 1856, at the 
age of eighty-six years. Existing records say that at 
New Orleans, after disposing of the Mononguhela 
Farmer , he was taken with yellow fever and given up 
to die, but recovered and lived to build and command 
another vessel which voyaged all the way from Elizabeth 
to New York, and he saw a wonderful business in the 
building of steamboats grow up in the little town. 

And the others whose fortunes we have followed in 
the foregoing pages — who can tell where their dust re- 
poses ? David Froman has told us that Harold and 
Mabel lived out their lives in the country farther west, 
and it is a fair inference that somewhere in the broad 
expanse of that great domain their mortal remains lie, 
awaiting the resurrection. And the gentle Mary, Sim, 
Hannerybeek — even David himself — who knows 
where their dust is mouldering? Perhaps the old neg- 
lected graveyard could tell, if it had a voice. 

After all, their fate in this particular is only that 
of the vast majority of all of earth’s millions who have 
had being, but their names and their life story are em- 
balmed in the loving chronicle of the last survivor 
among them. It. T. W. 

Elizabeth, Pa., 1906. 


380 























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